XCOM 2: Not The Enemy
by Poptard
Summary: When XCOM removed the biochip of a living Viper, they unintentionally gave her something else: Freedom. No longer a brainwashed servant of the Elders, Natasatch asked to join XCOM, much to the project's surprise. However, the prospect of integrating an alien into such an anti-alien organization may just be XCOM's most ambitious experiment yet.
1. Welcoming Committee

"SUPRISE!"

The sudden cacophony of noise and bright light disoriented Natasatch. She instinctively tried to level her weapon forward, but of course, she wasn't armed. Shying her eyes and emitting a brief hiss, she dove for cover, making an earnest effort to hide her considerable frame behind her human companion. The noise died off in just a few moments, and eventually the Viper peeked around her human shield's frame to see a collection of XCOM personnel. They huddled around a decorated table, looking at her with faces varying from concern to scorn.

"Nat?"

Her impromptu barricade spoke, giving a roll of his shoulder. Natasatch realized that she had gripped her human companion's arm tightly, holding him slightly off balance. Meekly, she let off the pressure until he'd found his footing again, and then he continued. "Nat, don't worry, everything's okay."

"What happening?" Natasatch asked, in her broken English.

"Geez, Mal. Didn't you tell your Viper lady about her welcoming party?"

The human at her side, Malcolm, rubbed his neck. "Heh, guess I just wanted it, uh, to be a surprise." He gave Natasatch an apologetic look, his normally smiling face crossed with a hint of worry. The young man turned back to the assembled group. "And it worked!"

"Not like surprises," Nat murmured.

Malcolm winced, absentmindedly adjusting his goggles. "Sorry."

However, the Viper had relaxed considerably by then, her eyes no longer darting across every potential threat in the room and her natural balancing sway growing looser. Tilting his head, Malcolm gestured to the table, and Natasatch followed the olive-skinned man as he approached his other humans.

Natasatch pored over the interesting assortment on both the table and around the room. A few colorful lights were about the hangings on the ceiling, while the table appeared to have a bedcloth draped over it. On it rested an assortment of cheap plasticware, rations dressed up by stylish arrangement, and a flat, round cyan cylinder, with a few candles and the same symbol she'd seen around the ship on the top. Interesting. It was nothing like those ADVENT 'party' equivalents she'd occasionally been assigned to guard.

Malcolm made a sweeping gesture, drawing Nat's attention. With volume building incrementally, he announced, "So, I guess, welcome to XCOM, Natasatch!"

"Welcome!" "Glad to have you onboard!" "Hey there." "Ayy, lady!"

The gaggle of humans whom the former ADVENT soldier once considered her enemies greeted her with surprising enthusiasm. Many were smiling, a few even blew on some devices that would unfurl like her own tongue as they made noise. Natasatch spotted a few humans who continued to look at her as if she'd start strangling somebody any moment, but for the most part, these humans seemed sincere.

Her heart started pounding faster and her head felt lighter, but Natasatch couldn't put into words what she was feeling. She didn't experience her muscles tightening, nor the familiar lust for blood. It wasn't fear or anger, despite her heart speeding up as if it was. Instead, the sensation felt… pleasant? That's it, she felt content. But without any explicit orders being fulfilled, or objective achieved, the slow bloom of satisfaction almost felt alien.

The rousing welcoming quieted, and eyes fell on her once more. Unsure, she turned her head to Malcolm, desperate for a cue. He gave her a small smile, giving Natasatch another small rush of pleasantness for reasons she didn't understand, and prompted, "So, why don't you introduce yourself?"

The viper turned to the humans, her hands fidgeting as she struggled to find the right words. If she misspoke, they'd reject her, and throw her off the ship while airborne, and they wouldn't bother rescuing any other Vipers, and Mal would regret ever letting her try to speak for herself. With those phobias plaguing the nervous girl's mind, she even surprised herself as enough English vocabulary emerged from her hazy understanding.

"Hello all. Natasatch, am called," she began, gesturing to herself with a clawed finger. "Am Viper. But ally, now. Elders use Vipers as slaves, like use humans. No real ally. Mal here, first real ally, first fir-end. He told ally can help Natasatch. Remove chip."

She tilted her head downward, bringing the same digit to highlight the recently sealed surgical scar running along her spine. A brief spike of pain occurred as her finger ran across its surface, but Natasatch was used to ignoring far greater discomfort.

"Am free."

She winced at how badly she vocalized, but somehow, it seemed to placate the humans. For once, she was pleased to be surprised, as she even watched one of the scornful veteran's expression soften as she highlighted her biochip scar. She wasn't sure if she should add more, but then Malcolm spoke up.

"Great job, Nat. That's her nickname-" he added as an aside "-and we're all very glad to have Nat on board. I can personally assure you she's perfectly safe to be around and actually doesn't like hurting humans, and that I'll be with her at all times to make sure there's no funny business."

"Seems ta me like yer hoping for some 'funny business' with her, lad," one of the females in a ballcap spoke up, immediately eliciting a torrent of snickers.

Natasatch could sense the blood flooding Mal's face, tinting his cheeks with a reddish hue, and she worried that a fight would break out during her introduction. If these human warriors were anything like Mutons, there's a good chance. However, she risked making things worse if she violated some human cultural norm by forcibly muting the offender with her coils, like usual, but her current alternative strategy of waiting for Malcolm to do something simply left her looking confused as Mal tried to return his blood circulation to normal.

Another soldier complained. "Cut the cake! I haven't gotten to eat one in years!"

Malcolm coughed a bit to clear his throat, and suddenly he was back to his usual self, grinning and animated. "Not yet, not yet!"

He put a hand on Natasatch's shoulder, the spot where his skin meet her scales suddenly tingling. "First, let's get a picture of the girl of the hour!"

They handed her the cake, which was the round object from earlier, while Malcolm borrowed a camera from a colleague. He leveled it at the unsure Viper, holding the lit cake awkwardly, a party hat resting precariously on her head and one of those noise devices stuck in her mouth.

"Say cheese!"

Natasatch didn't know the expression meant, nor could she even deliver a convincing happy expression, but the look of confusion on her face as the camera flashed seemed just as endearing.


	2. Housewarming

A knock on the door broke her concentration. Natasatch pulled her red eyes away from the tablet, looking at the entrance. In a quick motion, she laid the device on her cot, and slithered to the center of the room, a Gremlin drone following each movement. Straightening out the hoodie an engineer told her to wear, she made sure to stand as straight and non-threatening as she could manage before she answered.

"You can enter now!" She called, her speech much clearer than merely a week before.

The heavy bulkhead beeped, then slid open, and the Viper was greeted with the sight of a familiar human crossing the threshold. Malcolm gave a smile when their eyes met, as he pulled a loaded trolley covered in mismatched boxes and supplies, and Natasatch let herself relax.

Amusingly, he needed to duck to avoid the Gremlin as it accidentally swooped too close to his head. Shooting the drone a frown, he turned his head back to his alien friend. "Hey Nat. Everything okay?"

"Yes, I am well. Are you well, Malcolm?"

"I'm doing great. Here, look what I brought."

She tilted her head at the trolley, and the odd assortment of junk it held. "Storing supplies?"

Natasatch wasn't in a position to bargain, but she didn't enjoy the idea of sharing space with utilities. However, Malcolm shook his head, to her relief. "No, I'm just making this place a bit more homey."

It took her a moment to analyze the last word. "You are… moving in?"

"N-nothing like that!" He adjusted his goggles, sounding timid for reasons beyond her. "This is meant for you, Nat. If you ask me, it's just so depressing down here. More like a prison cell than your room."

She turned her head away from her human friend to survey the room. She had been told that she was being given a separate domicile from the humans, for both her and everyone else's safeties, but it turns out only the trashed rooms in the bowels of the ship were suitable locations. The engineers partially cleared a room once they verified the main door was the only exit, and provided her at least a few comforts like a cot and a box of rations. The debris lining the far side wasn't too bad, as she'd taken to relieving herself among the rubble, but the only thing that truly irked her was that Gremlin drone hovering about the room.

However, for all lackluster accommodations, Natasatch knew XCOM were better hosts than her previous ones. ADVENT lodgings took utilitarianism, mutilated and modified it, and unleashed it on their unsuspecting subjects, like it did with most things. She recalled her own nook, one of many that lined the walls of the alien barracks, akin to the capsule hotels she'd seen in many slums. Even those cramped metal spaces were better than the pods that ADVENT troopers were deactivated in, dozens of them standing upright. Comparing the two, Natasatch preferred XCOM's lack of comforts to the abundant discomfort of before.

The serpentine women exhaled, realizing that she held her breath while thinking of her old life. She looked back at Malcolm, the human awaiting a response. "I am content. Is this really necessary?"

He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "I'd say so. You aren't even using the bed we gave you, and are sleeping on the metal floor."

Natasatch imitated his gesture, finding the movement surprisingly natural. "Too small."

She cleared the sparse items on the top of the cot and slid herself on to demonstrate. No matter which position, she either had her upper or lower half flopping to the floor anyway, in arrangements simply uncomfortable to look at, and nearly impossible to get a restful sleep in.

Her point made, she slipped off the bed. "See?"

"Yeah, I see. And that's terrible."

"It is acceptable."

He gave his alien friend a look she hadn't seen from him before, his eyes narrowing with the rest of his face softening. Without quite knowing why, she felt her head tilting away, her posture dropping as well, though she never could break eye contact.

"Please don't fight me on this. I want to help." He said, softly.

Natasatch tensed. Even if he was rather low-ranked in the XCOM hierarchy, and she was technically also a part of it, she didn't want to risk defying any of them. She finally broke eye contact, the smaller humanoid having won this staredown. "Okay."

Malcolm was once again smiling, and once again she felt relief wash over her body. As he went to work, the hesitant viper returned to her datapad, choosing to play a surprisingly captivating human game involving arranging falling blocks. Malcolm tapped her on the shoulder just as she'd finished a round, and Natasatch's eyes widened at the changes he'd wrought in such a short time.

The first thing she noticed was the lights. A standing lantern and lamp joined a few strung lights and flooded the formerly dingy room, to the point of potential irritation, but she was pleased how easily that could be adjusted. Her cot wasn't alone as a surface anymore, as it was joined by an end table and some plastic filing cabinets. The best improvement had to be the proper bedding she now could use; Malcolm had laid down a few thick blankets and some accompanying pillows, for a resting spot that was both large enough to comfortably accommodate her. It was mismatched as furniture of a salvager's collection tended to be, but that never was a concern for her.

Much better, Natasatch conceded, any bitterness already evaporated.

"So, what do you think?"

"Very nice, yes." She tilted her head quizzically. "Where did you get this all?"

Malcolm leaned back, puffing his chest slightly. "You're looking at a salvaging expert, Nat. There's almost nothing I can't scavenge or barter for, and the Haven we're hovering over has both in abundance."

Inwardly, Natasatch found it amusing, the small human posturing like a bulky Muton would, but she knew better than to show her mirth. Still, she couldn't help but indulge herself in continuing the show.

"Hmm, you're an expert? When we first met, you couldn't even avoid a small civil patrol. How long have you been scavenging?"

If Malcolm noticed the light ribbing, he didn't show it. "All my life. I've been picking apart wrecks or building something for someone for as long as I could remember. I had to, really-" Natasatch noticed his smile was gone by now, "-as just another war orphan. No family, no home, just whatever I could find or work for."

Malcolm trailed off, his hands habitually reaching up fidget with his glasses as he sat down on the bedspread. The silence unsettled the Viper, a collision of human emotions and experiences she'd yet to understand, but she found herself crawling onto the blankets as well, curling up comfortably a few feet away. The quiet atmosphere persisted, Natasatch occasionally peering back to Malcolm, who seemed to be in a world of his own.

Idling, her eyes drifted over the collection of furnishings her friend had leased her. She noticed something she didn't before: a weathered wooden box, which she had mistaken for a table, with a combination lock. Using her tail, Natasatch shifted it closer and pawed it, surprised to see the box open. It was empty, but it had the fortunate effect of ending whatever trance that her human friend fell into, as he sat up and turned to her.

"Oh, that's for you. A lockbox. The combination is Two-Zero-Five. You can keep anything you own in it."

Interesting. The Viper wondered what she could place inside, but then she realized she didn't have anything _to_ place inside. Everything she had with her now, from the electronic tablet to the clothes to even this new furniture, was given to her with the unspoken status of being a loan she was free to use as long as she behaved. ADVENT took it further, confiscating almost every item taken from the field, everything else communal or restricted. Eventually, Natasatch stopped bothering, having given up on property like any other idle fantasy.

Her hood shivered slightly in frustration. "But, I do not own anything."

Malcolm smiled, warmth spreading from it like heat from a hearth. He reached into his backpack and took out a framed photo: it was Natasatch at her welcoming party, holding up a cake with a confused expression. He extended his arm, and the picture passed from his hands to hers. As her red eyes scanned her miniature visage, a recollection of the sensations of that evening came back, the positive feelings rising above the unpleasant.

Amazing what Malcolm's little object could do to her. No, what _her_ object could do, whenever she wished.

She inhaled sharply, her brain struggling to process thoughts that her biochip had long since suppressed. Eventually, Natasatch managed to say. "Thank you very much, Malcolm. It is perfect."

She felt like she still didn't have the right words, and vowed to study English more.


	3. A-Team Firefight

The Viper opened her jaws, letting loose a loud hiss as she dodged a crackling black blade. Missing the stab, the Stun Lancer retracted to attempt an overhead swing, but Natasatch easily avoided the telegraphed move and wrapped her amber coils around her opponent. She forced him to his knees, a smug look plastered on her verpine face.

Seeing the Lancer's backup hurrying forward, Natasatch sensed her position wouldn't be ideal in the next few moments, so she needed this enemy dead, now. She turned to her closest human compatriot, calling "Assistance, please!"

"I got this!" Corporal Malcolm Silva responded. Nodding, She leaned herself back to expose the Stun Lancer's torso more, lined up a perfect shot at the immobile target and…

Trained the weapon several degrees to the side, and let loose a burst into a tree.

He audibly sighed over the comms. "Okay, I don't got this."

She blinked, the battlefield coming to a pause. With her enhanced senses, she could effortlessly track individual movements despite the chaos of the surroundings, so the alien had watched the human seemingly decide that the flora more greatly deserved his bullets than the target in her coils. Natasatch shifted her vision to his smoking rifle barrel, to the tree now missing an odd branch or two, and back and forth, until she was interrupted by the Stun Lancer's cranium exploding in an orange spray.

The German-accented voice of the team sniper crackled over the radio. "Target down! Who's the next one?"

Releasing the headless corpse and reflexively giving it a brief hiss, the Viper hurried over to the tall outcropping of rocks that Malcolm also occupied. They both paused to reload their rifles, then Natasatch gave the human a look of concern.

"Is your rifle malfunctioning, Malcolm?!" Natasatch asked, straining to project her inexperienced speech over the sounds of battle in the background.

"I don't think so!" He replied, matching her volume.

"Then why did your rifle shoot nowhere near the target?!"

"Uh… The sun was in my eyes?"

They both looked up, at the overcast grey sky, then back at each other, as Natasatch shot him an incredulous look. Malcolm, already fatigued from the fighting, grew flustered as well.

"Well, I don't think so," the alien commented.

Natasatch turned her attention back to the firefight, peeking her head out and examining the situation. She barely heard the Commander issue an order to the team's grenadier before the cover of two more enemies exploded, the Sectoid and Trooper reeling from the blast. Hearing the report of a rifle to her right, and most importantly seeing the tracer trails of the bullets whizzing over their opponent's heads, the viper already knew which human was taking the shots. She already expected Malcolm's sheepish expression even before she physically confirmed its presence.

"Okay, that was bad, but Nat, listen. Sometimes bad luck happens!"

Without even bothering to look back downrange, Natasatch fired her own weapon from the hip, the green beam cleanly severing the Sectoid's arm with a scream. She took a longer moment to line up a shot for the trooper, drilling him between the shoulders as he made a break to safety, releasing an annoyed hiss as she saw her enemy fall.

Malcolm gave a short grunt, and Natasatch tuned him out, focusing more on the enemy ahead than her inexperienced companion at her side.

One fact about her nature she could never deny was that Vipers were bred for war. From the tip of her powerful tail muscles to her long, prehensile tongue, Natasatch was an expertly-designed shock soldier, sending enemies scrambling for cover or coughing their lungs up as poison filled their systems. Rather than focus on her origins, XCOM sought to utilize her talents, sending Natasatch into the field only a week and a half after her induction. Alpha-Team's mission was surprisingly straightforward, but deceptively simple: destroy an ADVENT Communication Array hidden in a suburb, with only a few enemies in the way. Of course, being such an easy operation, something had to go wrong.

The Commander had hoped that being a Viper, ADVENT would at least hesitate before firing upon Natasatch, but as they discovered, the enemies relied solely on biochip IFFs to decide who needed shooting. As hers was removed, it stopped the ADVENT soldiers only as long as it needed to lead this faster enemy slightly more. The feeling was mutual, actually; she felt little reservation cutting down her former faction's soldiers, her new loyalty evident with the fluorescent teal sigil spraypainted on her Viper armor.

Still, Natasatch learned why the Commander was almost revered by his subordinates, as their flexible tactics allowed the XCOM operatives to scamper unhurt to cover and begin to turn the tables. The squad's greatest challenge came from the Stun Lancers ignoring the hardened soldiers in the front to strike the more vulnerable middle, but that obviously didn't succeed. The rest of the ADVENT forces fell in short order, and though the rebels weren't entirely unharmed, all of them were alive.

With the relay demolished with time to spare, the squad set about to check for any loot and aid or reassure any civilians caught up in the scuffle. Inexperienced in both activities, she sought out her nominal superior, finding Malcolm treating an XCOM operative sitting against a wall.

Despite the military rank, the young man seemed no different on duty than off it. He still wore his gray sweater, scarf, and goggles he improperly kept on his forehead, spoke in the same excitable voice, and apart from scanning his surroundings more often, he conducted himself in the same upbeat demeanor, even with bullets flying. Perhaps that was why he fared better as supporting soldier than a frontline combatant, like her. Natasatch only heard the tail end of the two humans' conversation as she approached.

Seeing Natasatch out of the corner of her eye, the wounded operative instinctively grabbed at her hip and leveled her service pistol at the alien, though she caught herself as the Viper flinched. She pulled down her skull-printed bandana, calling, "Oh, damn, sorry!"

She narrowed her eyes, but no harm, no dead birds, like how Malcolm explained. Speaking of her human, he finished the splint on the ankle of his injured compatriot, hefting the woman onto her feet in a support carry. He nodded to Natasatch, who shrugged (she really enjoyed that expression) in response, and the three of them started on their way back to the Skyranger.

"You know, you were actually pretty good out there," the human female spoke, prompting Natasatch to turn one of her red eyes to scrutinize her. "I'm Mercier. I'm sorry, I forgot your name."

"Natasatch," the Viper responded plainly.

"Natasatch. Glad you're on our side this time. You were a monster out there."

Her beige hood flexed slightly in indignation, but she supposed it must have been a compliment, if Mercier's choice in face apparel indicated anything. She preferred to err on the side of caution, at least with unknown humans.

"Better than Silva out there, at least," a german voice added, as the team sniper dropped from his vantage point to join the trek. "This one can actually aim!"

The young soldier scrunched his olive-skinned face, indignation evident, as the two other humans shared a guffaw between them. He complained, "It was an off-day for me. I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?"

Both responded in perfect unison. "Nope."

Malcolm's brown eyes met Natasatch's red, and she witnessed the exact moment where the human decided she could save him. Her gave her some dangerously watery eyes, and asked sweetly, "Nat, back me up here. I'm normally a decent shot, right?"

His unlucky day wasn't over yet, as Natasatch chose to play with the quarry at her mercy. The Viper pulled back the corners of her mouth, and she bowed her head wickedly. Her eyes narrowed, and Malcolm knew she would not be merciful. "Yes. When the sun isn't in your eyes," Natasatch agreed.

The humans heard a series of rapid, shallow exhales as she turned back to the Skyranger ahead, realizing a few moments in this was her alien equivalent of laughing. Matheson and Mercier joined in, and even Malcolm couldn't help but crack a smile as they all stepped onto the ramp.


	4. Snake Charmer

The Engineers had dubbed it "the Snake Pit" for obvious reasons, but even with the darkened corners and jagged rubble forced into the far end, the room of Natasatch's temporary residence felt surprisingly welcoming. A growing collection of odds and ends joined the cot and storage furniture, the spread of thick floor blankets and soft pillows giving the occupants somewhere to relax. An almost festive arrangements of lights kept the dark and grungy atmosphere at bay and warmed the cool metal walls, just the way the main occupant liked it.

The Viper's eyes took all these details in, a sense of contentment blooming in her chest. No amount of Gremlin surveillance or mandatory chaperones could quell her enjoyment of her impromptu den, and she almost worried that XCOM was spoiling her. Sprawled out among the cushions, she resumed reading the human history book in her hands, though Natasatch hoped for something more engaging than how dead humans killed each other because they were born in different countries.

Natasatch wouldn't have to wait long, because only a few moments later, the other regular occupant screwed shut a side panel of a music speaker and stood. Tapping his pocket tablet, the restored speaker's tiny screen blinked to life, prompting the young man to pump his fist excitedly. "Nice!"

Malcolm sat tinkering with among a pile of disassembled stereos, a complete version standing alone among its cannibalized brethren. He had brought a surprising amount of junk to her room in the past two weeks, and she suspected the want of hobby space was half the reason the scavenger spent so much time with her. Still, she enjoyed the surprises he so often brought in, and with how pleased Malcolm looked with this current round of scrap, his own interest piqued hers as well.

Music spilled from the speakers, with surprising clarity due to the wear on the device. It seemed like a melodic series of metallic strums, occasionally accompanied by what she recognized as human clapping and finger snapping. She'd rarely bothered to listen to music humans played before, but even with what she recalled, she never heard anything like it.

"Interested?" Malcolm shifted to one leg, twirling his screwdriver idly.

Her head bobbed slightly, testing the differences caused by each change in position. If she had one thing to thank the ADVENT bio-engineers for, it was the courtesy to grant her kind hearing on par with a human. "Slightly. What is it?"

"It's called 'flamenco.' It's a guitar style that comes from Spain, I think. Sometimes it's fast and loud, sometimes slow and smooth, but it always gets me here-" he tapped his sternum "- you know?"

"What was that thing you mentioned?"

"Spain? Oh, it was a country in Europe, on the western tip of the continent..."

"Actually, I was asking about a 'guitar.'"

Her human friend paused, gave her an odd look, and started giggling. "What? Seriously? It's like one of the most common instruments in the world!"

Natasatch felt her cheeks heat up, and she narrowed her eyes. "Nevermind," she said in a huff.

His laughing fit ended almost as quickly as he begun it, as Malcolm realized he hit a sore spot. His friend was quick to learn, but quick to recoil if she felt provoked.

He walked a bit closer, leaning over as she tried to ignore him and the music. "Uh, hey, I'm sorry. I just at times forget that you had a different upbringing than most of us. I shouldn't have laughed."

She turned one of her eyes to regard him. He asked, "Can you forgive me?"

Natasatch didn't give a verbal response, but her face softened, which he took as a sign of acceptance. He gave her a quick nod, and started to explain how a guitar was a string instrument usually made of wood, and was played by strumming the strings, and other information, but ended up abridging his description when he saw her interest wane.

Even while focusing on her book, the topic of music didn't leave her mind, not helped with the speaker playing in the background. ADVENT had banned many musical styles, like they did with most cultural mainstays that they couldn't exert complete control over. They only tolerated orchestral music, co-opting it to sound inspirational for their military parades, and the electronic played in city clubs, since there wasn't much cultural significance behind it anyway. With that in mind, why would it be so hard to imagine she'd never heard one of those intriguing guitars before? Just another comfort the Elders denied their servants, it seems.

"Hey." Malcolm broke the silence.

She turned to look at Malcolm, who sported a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. "Yes?"

"Do you like the music?"

She shrugged. "Yes, I suppose I do."

That seemed to be enough for him, both human and alien returning back to their respective endeavors, but Natasatch was quite good at distinguishing when she was being watched or not. Slyly rolling her head back, she caught Malcolm grinning like a fool while staring at her. He didn't even stop himself when their eyes met, and she directly addressed him.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Nope."

"Hmm, yet you seem to find something unusually interesting, friend."

Using his screwdriver, he pointed downward. "Your tail."

Her eyes followed his gesture, and to her surprise, the lowest portions of her tail were in motion. Without any input (and without her notice), it swayed as a metronome would with the harmony of the flamenco tunes, the tip even managing to track the rapid falsettas that popped in randomly. Upon notice by their ultimate controller, the Viper's tail stopped, and she looked back at the amused human.

Whatever the human found funny, she didn't follow."Yes, that is my tail."

"That's actually pretty cute."

That word choice took her off guard. Natasatch held no doubts for the reason she was brought into existence, as a shock soldier first and foremost. She had a sleek, elongated body to better avoid damage and close for the kill, a tail of almost nothing but muscles to constrict helpless prey, and unhinging jaw that concealed long, terrible fangs, and an internal poison spitter that able to spread sickness to an entire squad of enemies. If she so chose to, she could easily crush this puny human to death, and he surely must know that, since he'd seen Natasatch put those terrible abilities to use.

Considering her fierce nature, describing Natasatch with a word meaning "delightful and pleasing to view" was, quite frankly, extremely flattering. To succeed on an aesthetic level despite the appearance-focused nature of humans was high praise indeed.

"Thank you for the compliment, Malcolm," Natasatch said, practically beaming.

She averted her eyes suddenly, pondering. She'd seen other humans respond to praise in kind, so wouldn't that be common courtesy? The Viper look backed to him. "You're pretty cute yourself."

It seems Natasatch must have done something wrong, because Malcolm stumbled through a few random sounds while looking away, and she heard the exact opposite of accepting a compliment when she caught a "sorry" in the jumble.

Fairly amusing, but for the moment, she'd rather listen to the music instead of watch her friend's antics. Besides, she'd had her fill of watching him squirm after his earlier insensitive outburst. She closed her book and laid her head down on the cushion, eyes closed lightly as her tail weaved along with the guitar.

* * *

Author's Notes: Just so you know, I post these stories first on my tumblr, which often has notes, commentary, or photos that I can't easily post on here. If you use that site, feel free to keep track of it there.


	5. Anatomy Lesson

She felt Malcolm's cold, gloved hands run up her arm, fingers delicately testing the scales. She inwardly chuckled, the Viper recalling just a month ago when she'd never allow a human this close to her. So much had changed since he'd swept her up in this human crusade.

The human's digits eventually pressed against a slightly discolored patch of scale, and unpleasant sensations shot up her appendage. Natasatch thought she stopped herself from reacting heavily, but the perceptive human must've noticed her red eyes slightly narrowing. He quickly continued up from her forearm to her shoulder, stepping away and extracting his hands.

"Looks like you arm's almost, but not totally healed, Nat. Give it another few days."

She shrugged, the sling that carried her healing arm slightly impeding the motion. "Very well."

Natasatch looked away from Malcolm, observing the somewhat-familiar lab in the bow of the Avenger. This was her third time in the room; the first being her initial biochip removal, the second a week ago for Tygan to help heal the Viper after a rough spot of combat. Natasatch's current visit was far less dire than her previous ones, as Tygan merely requested her presence as to help some volunteers learn how to treat her kind.

Malcolm, the one who suggested the program, was joined by two fellow trainees, a blonde female and shaven male. Doctor Tygan, the closest thing to a Viper medical expert, watched Malcolm give Natasatch a quick examination, oversaw them all, plus another inhabitant whose presence slightly unnerved all but the doctor.

Tygan gained what Viper medical knowledge he possessed using the physical approach, so naturally having the students undertake the same only seemed natural. An expired Viper, a casualty stolen from a recent battle she didn't attend, lay on a table about a dozen feet away, awaiting dissection. The currently living Viper reminded herself that she had seen plenty of dead before, even those of her own kind, so this shouldn't be different. However, something of the environment of this sterile, clean lab, wholly unlike a battlefield, would not let her relax.

Natsatch shivered, finding a new appreciation for the human clothing she'd grudgingly taken to wearing. The cardigan Malcolm gave- no, _gifted_ her staved off the chill of the lab, and the sensation of the wool on her scales gave a welcome distraction from their lab project ahead.

Tygan spoke, "Excellent work, Mr. Silva. You're quickly catching up to the rest, despite no formal training."

Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck, cracking a smile. "Thanks, Doc. I try my best," he said.

"Now, onto the next exercise. While gruesome, gaining a physical familiarity is crucial for proper medical treatment, regardless of species."

The other medical students nodded knowingly, checking their gloves and walking to the table. Natasatch felt like she should be present despite her discomfort, but Malcolm's raised hand stopped her. He offered, "Hey, I know this is about Vipers, but you don't need to see this if you don't want to. How about we'll just call you over when there's a specific, uh, thingie that we want your input on?"

Relief bloomed in her chest. "I... would prefer that, Malcolm. Thank you."

"That alright, Tygan?"

The bald man nodded, his face obscured by his lab mask. The other two students hadn't put theirs on yet, so she caught their expressions, seeming to her like looks of pity.

By the time Malcolm had prepared himself, Tygan and the other students had removed the Viper cadaver's armor, no further obstructions preventing their grisly investigation. Tygan asked, "Before we start, any further questions?"

The female student raised a hand. "Why does the snake have nipples?"

"Wait, what- holy crap, it does."

Natasatch, lacking knowledge of the term, followed their pointing fingers, to the two venom sacs on the cadaver's chest. Even then, she didn't follow the humans' train of thought.

"Looks like I just won forty bucks," the male student said. He poked Malcolm with an elbow. "Hey, Xeno, you still want to hit it?"

The human in question turned his head towards his compatriot, Natasatch imagining a scowl on his obscured face. Tygan spoke up, interrupting them both. "Yes. Human characteristics and those of aliens are becoming increasingly intermingled, thought it is quite astonishing to see features such as those."

"What are they even for?"

"What are what for?" Natasatch spoke up.

"The nipples!" The male student pointed again at the exact same place.

"The venom sacs?" She responded, confused.

"No, the- see the little stubby part on the end?"

Natasatch looked more closely, finally noticing the small outcropping of soft flesh. She, of course, was aware of its existence, like her own, but as it had no use, she almost never thought of it. "Those are nipples?"

"Yes."

"What of them?"

The male student suddenly burst into laughter, his amused cries echoing in the lofty chamber, while the female gave a few chuckles of her own. Tygan remained still, but made no effort to conceal his irritation at the comical interruption, and Malcolm seemed oddly hesitant. Sensing Natasatch's confusion and rising annoyance, her human friend spoke. "It's, uh, a human cultural thing, Nat. I'll explain more later."

Natasatch crossed her arms, another gesture she'd picked up from humans.

"I'm guessing Morsov and Taylor just find it funny to find stuff for mammals on alien snakes."

"Hmmph. Not all Vipers have them. Some have smooth venom sacs, some with those bumps. It's of no significance, like..." She tapped her earholes. "Like your ears, and how they are different."

The four humans glanced about each other, turning their heads this way and that. To their group's mild surprise, Tygan was the only one of the group with free-floating earlobes, while all three of the rest had their ears attach neatly at the bottom. Interesting from a genetics standpoint, yet irrelevant from a practical standpoint. Exactly the point.

"It certainly is noteworthy, however. This does reinforce my theories regarding the alien genetic manipulation."

"We're all ears, Doc," Malcolm said, earning a groan from the female student and a snicker from the male.

Tygan ignored the joke. "The fact that such interesting variation in phenotype exists, a 'bug' in their manufactured genetic code, either means that their genetic engineers simply don't understand the human genome to correct it permanently, or that they have decided their final version was acceptable for production despite any... quirks. Both theories may indicate that modified species may contain certain genetic "flaws," ones that we may learn to exploit."

He looked in the direction of his datapad, but stopped. "However, that was all merely theoretical talk, and this meeting was for the purpose of physical application." Without even looking, his hand picked up a scalpel from the tray nearby, the silver blade glinting under the lights. "Now, let us begin."

A tiny wave of the hand from Malcolm caught her attention, which the Viper took as a sign to duck out. Natasatch slid herself to the far side of the room, examining the walls and testing her grasp of human writing by examining the labels. The busywork helped, but it was hard drown out the wet squelching noises or ignore the coppery smell that started to permeate.

Natasatch really wanted to listen that stereo Malcolm gave her. She'd mostly ignored the device when he wasn't present, preferring the silence and her own thoughts, but right now her human friend's gift would be a welcome distraction.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but she finally noticed her name being called. Natasatch turned back, seeing that the humans apparently finished due to their removed facemasks. Yellow-green blood stained the scrubs of the two other students, but Malcolm's own clothing looked nearly pristine in comparison, which she found oddly pleasing. She guessed the humans wanted to ask her something, so she returned, doing her best to focus on those still living.

"Hey Nat, we're mostly finished with the ugly part," Malcolm said.

"That is good," she responded, relieved.

"The dissection was an enlightening experience, but we'll need more than physical knowledge to understand how to treat your medical needs," Tygan said. "If possible, could you offer any further advice, or your former organization's method of treatment?"

The Viper looked around, uncertain. Frustratingly, nothing immediately popped to mind. "I... can't say much."

"Won't, or can't?"

"Can't," she clarified. "I've never been hurt enough to need medical help. We just lick the scrapes and move on. Health examinations happen regularly, but you just pass under a scanner in a hallway and take a different door if unwell. I've always been fine, so I can't help.

Malcolm caught her eyes in the corner of his vision, and the human coughed to gain everyone's attention. "Hey Doc, don't you know how to heal Vipers already? I mean, you already performed brain surgery on one, and everything else really should be easier."

"An excellent question," Tygan responded, "but comprehensive medical care will be more complicated. Performing the surgical procedure on the subject here was under the most ideal of circumstances. I doubt injuries sustained in combat will be as orderly, nor heal as easily as a single surgical laceration."

The other humans gestured their agreement, and even Malcolm seemed assauged. Natasatch tilted her head down, a clawed finger of her unhindered hand feeling the slight groove of her head scar. The dull brown faded into her natural amber, hardly noticeable from her scale pattern to human eyes. She wasn't free of the conversation, however, and Tygan once again addressed her.

"Still, I'm certain that you've at least witnessed your allies become heavily wounded before. Correct?"

"Correct."

"Do you remember what happened to them afterward?"

Natastach angled her eyes upward, trying to to scrounge her mind for any relevant information. "Hmm... Yes, I can remember. Once two troopers lost their legs from some kind of bomb in a backpack. Another, Enesea, lost a lot of her lower tail from a powerful human rifle. I can think of a few more, but the orders were always to finish the enemy first, and then stabilize our wounded with a..." She lacked a direct English translation. "Spraying stick? It is a tube, and from one end comes a clear plastic, which would harden and stop blood where it flowed."

"That seems to support previous observations," Tygan commented. "Our medikits operate in a similar fashion, though they disinfect and numb at the same time. Still, what transpires afterwards?"

"Other troopers carry them away, sometimes on stretchers, sometimes they've already died. They go in vans or dropships, and then fly off." She shrugged. "That's all. I apologize for not knowing more."

Doctor Taylor spoke this time. "Do you ever see your injured friends again? Or, even talk to them again?"

Natasatch almost reflexively answered yes, but for the life of her, she never recalled encountering Enesea or any subordinate trooper again. Nor had she actively sought them out. It simply hadn't occurred to her. She averted her eyes. "No, I never have. They all are reassigned or die in treatment, and replacements come in within days."

As she looked up, the Viper saw the humans regarding her carefully. Wincing, frowning, though obviously not angry at her. Malcolm tried to give her a smile when their eyes met, but the gesture failed to hide the sad look behind his eyes. "Sorry about your friends," he offered.

The tail of their dissected Viper twitched slightly, harmlessly, but still managing to startle those present in the room. Natasatch tried to ignore it. "Death happens," she stated matter-of-factly, shrugging. The foggy memory of Enesea and her other absent comrades refused to leave her mind.

A hand on her shoulder roused the Viper from her mental turmoil, Malcolm extending some physical support. She gave a cursory glance at the smaller human, then shut her eyes. Focusing on the very physical sensation of the touch helped banish the hazy thoughts, and for a few moments, all was well.

The male student, Morsov, eventually broke the silence. "Looks like we'll be on our own in figuring out how these things tick," he said.

Doctor Tygan pivoted, walking alongside the autopsy table, addressing the trainees as he proceeded. "Even then, we do have a head start. Through specimens like this one, we have a fairly comprehensive knowledge of Viper physiology, and I trust the material and notes I will provide will help you familiarize yourself. Meanwhile, our living subject is rapidly recovering, which provides-"

"Hey, Tygan?"

"Yes, Mr. Silva?" Tygan responded calmly, despite the abrupt interruption.

Natasatch sensed some hesitation as Malcolm broke contact with her, the young man facing the. "Could you, uh, not call Natasatch a 'subject?' It's kind of dehumanizing."

Natasatch chuckled slightly. "I am not a human, Malcolm."

"No- Well, yeah..." The human massaged his temples with his free hand. "That's not what I meant. I mean, Nat may not be a human, but she's still a person. After all, she's a part of XCOM like us, and she's doing it because she wants to, so we can't be treating her like some lab rat."

"If you will recall, Mr. Silva, Natasatch _was_ brought aboard as an experiment. Her later induction was an unintended consequence, though certainly not unwelcome," Tygan reminded, and the two other medical students nodded.

Malcolm winced. "Not helping, Tygan."

The long-haired woman spoke up ash raised a hand. "Technically, personhood isn't restricted to humankind. Humans were just the only sapient species around when the philosophers thought up that definition."

Morsov didn't seem convinced. "So, what? You're saying human rights apply to non-humans? How _aliens_ have inalienable liberties?"

Taylor stomped her foot. "Dammit, I'm a doctor, not an ethical philosopher! But even I can tell you that this Viper is too smart to treat like an animal." Malcolm certainly seemed pleased at having won over somebody, while Natasatch felt a slight glow from the compliment.

Morsov scoffed. "Do you two honestly think that ADVENT and the aliens care one bit for human rights?"

Malcolm took a step forward, meeting and holding the skeptical man's gaze. "Do you honestly think we're just like ADVENT?"

Morsov clenched his fists, but released them, his face lowering shamefully. "No, we're not them," he said, softer than he'd ever been. Morsov looked to the alien that spurred their brief argument. "I... would like to apologize, Miss..."

"Natasatch."

"Natasatch." She was getting better at gauging human sincerity, and by all accounts, Morsov looked very sincere.

Malcolm turned back to his friend, worried he'd find her tense, but Natasatch actually had little trouble remaining relatively relaxed. The debate was obviously a fight of words, not weapons, and she wasn't keen on diving into areas outside her expertise. Besides, Malcolm handled it quite effectively.

"My apologies as well, Natasatch." Tygan offered. Doctor Taylor gave her a thumbs up, which Natasatch knew was a sign of approval. At least in this small group of people, she was human enough for them.

However, something still plagued the back of her mind.

"Then what is she?" Natasatch pointed at the Viper on the table. Even as the dissection mutilated her bare chest and lower body, her recognizable and pale face stared lifelessly at the high ceiling above. The scale pattern looked remarkably similar to her own; perhaps the two shared a donor, maybe even a dam. Perhaps she would also have run from their kin's servitude, if given the chance. Natasatch couldn't have been the only one.

She finally recognized the tightness in her chest. Sorrow. The sensation felt alien to her. "Was she a person too?"

Tygan lowered his head, the other humans following suit. "I suppose she was. If only more could be done."

The rest of the medical training session consisted of reading and writing for the students, and proceeded without incident. It almost felt like a blur.

Malcolm escorted Natasatch back to her warm but solitary room and wished her goodnight, promising he'd visit in the morning. Once again alone, the image of the unknown Viper's dead face didn't vanish until Natasatch she turned on the soft music of the stereo, closed her eyes, and let dreamless sleep take her.


	6. Near Miss

From her time serving the ADVENT, Natasatch knew how her former organization planned "anti-terror" attacks. Get a location, send a few infiltrators ahead to confirm, and then attack when humans were most vulnerable, which was usually extremely early in the morning. Now, as an XCOM soldier, the Viper discovered firsthand why the timing of those attacks were so crucial.

When Malcolm awoke her at 3:35AM, her verpine physiology meant Natasatch was alert and ready in mere minutes. However, the humans took longer to adapt. Malcolm almost tripped over the clutter of her room as they departed, and she counted dozens of yawns exchanged between the bleary humans as they shuffled into their gear. To Natasatch's confusion, the humans' yawns spread to her, as if a xenovirus of perpetually opening mouths. They were nodding off on the armory benches, and as they sat down in the Skyranger, and only awakened as the red signal lights warned of the imminent engagement.

Despite the humans' lackluster preparedness, one of them managed to question hers.

"You sure she'll remember whose side she's on?" A human male, one she didn't recognize, spoke to the group.

Lieutenant Mercier, the squad leader, raised her voice. "Lay off it, McCann. She's been fine the last times, this'll be no different."

"Well, fine, but it'll be hard to tell her from other aliens."

"I can understand your language, just so you know," Natasatch commented. She crossed her arms. "I can tell you from the human-shaped Advent, and I expect you can do the same. Think of it in the same way."

The new soldier gave a grunt, deciding his shotgun needed some additional inspection. Malcolm, her human friend, poked her from the side with an elbow. "Nice going, Nat," he said, somewhat quietly. "Using your words like that."

"I learned from you," Natasatch said, looking pleased with herself.

"Get ready to deploy, Menace!" The voice of Firebrand resounded through the steel coffin of the cargo bay, and the rear door let out a metallic groan as it ground open. A red glow quickly filled the space, followed by the smell of smoke and distant screams. Unfastening their harnesses, they filed down the rope and into the chaotic night.

"Good luck out there."

The sole upside of ADVENT's massacre in progress was that the enemy started off facing the burning settlement, leading to a number of easy kills for the vengeful operatives. The rest of the alien forces scattered into cover, but a few explosives and Natasatch's poison clouds quickly negated any defense. In few scant moments after touching down, the team penetrated the village limits.

Weaving out of cover, tracking the energy weapons discharges, and covering each corner, they proceeded slowly. Malcolm paused at each fallen civilian to check for signs of life, but after enough sad sighs and clenched fists, they simply started skirting around the corpses and collapsed buildings to focus on finding those responsible, which sat fine with Natasatch. Fortunately, they only had to follow the screaming.

An ADVENT squad laid ahead, which proved a greater challenge than the disorganized mob from before. Yet, they still fell, one by one. An ADVENT officer slumped against a wall, her body riddled with far more bullets than absolutely necessary, while her subordinate troopers were now part of a pile of corpses they had a hand in creating. The final member, a Stun Lancer, opted to die in a blaze of glory, letting out a distorted roar and rushing towards the group.

Natasatch's brilliant green plasma beam impacted the lancer at the center of his chest, and the soldier stumbled and fell with an unceremonious groan. Mirthfully, she noted the lancer hadn't even crossed halfway to his destination before he died. Their fearless tactics seemed far more effective when she was on the same side, but now she appreciated the target exercise.

The squad leader confirmed over the comms, "Last enemy down, at least for now!"

"Were those gun shots? Help!" A frantic pounding caught the squad's attention, and after taking aim at the door just in case, Malcolm approached the door turned the handle. A terrified civilian fell out, but her relief at the human operators returned to fear when she caught sight of Natasatch. The viper wavered, unsure, but Malcolm waved downward to prompt the team to lower their weapons.

Lifting his goggles to reveal his eyes, he spoke softly, but audibly, to the survivor, "Don't worry, friend, the Viper's with us. Now get yourself to the Skyranger, we've cleared a path."

The civilian looked between Malcolm and Natasatch, understandably confused. An explosion sounded off a block away, rattling the ramshackle houses, frightening the girl even more. Malcolm repeated, more firmly, "Please, get moving."

The civilian met Natasatch's eyes, terrified and twitchy, but she could see a glimmer of hope beneath the hazy sheen. Natasatch blinked, briefly tilting her head in the direction of the Skyranger. For some reason, that convinced the girl, and she gave the alien a nod before taking off.

The Commander chimed in on the radio with an updated set of orders; Mercier was to lead the rest of the squad to the source of the explosion, Natasatch was to assist Malcolm with searching for any survivors in the current section. The aliens just started to sink their claws into this section, and hopefully there were more humans to save.

"Looks like there's two rows of houses, Nat," Malcolm noted. The settlers constructed their village without any foresight or logic that Natasatch could understand, but it benefited them in this case. "I'll get this row, you get the next, and call out if you find anyone."

"Very well."

A nod, and the duo split. Opening each door or peering through blasted portholes, she gave a cursory look through each room. Having experienced proper human homekeeping, the houses disarray only seemed worse, even before the battle damage was considered. Fires raged unchecked, plasma scarred the walls, and impromptu barricades shattered on the floor. Tasting the air briefly, she detected no human scents, and continued her staggered walk down her row.

It took her a moment to remember how the process came so easily to her. Natasatch remembered, she _was_ trained to do exactly this. Scan rooms for hiding humans, but to hunt, not to rescue like now. Her nostrils flared, the Viper reminded herself she wasn't aiding those pointless massacres anymore, but her sudden tension remained. The Viper pushed open the final door, the smoldering wood giving easily under the light push of her claws, and she hoped she'd find at least some of the humans the Malcolm asked her to save.

Perhaps due to that desire, Natasatch felt extra cheated when she saw the two corpses on the floor. A pair of humans, lain on the floor, arms wrapped around each other, a continuous scorch from one of their chests to the next. They probably were kneeling or already on the floor when they were executed, Natasatch surmised, refusing to separate and only accelerating their deaths by a few seconds. This wasn't the first occurrence she'd seen; often the ADVENT soldiers were bragging how their targets helped them conserve ammo. But she'd never felt her claws tighten around her weapon at the sight before, or a palpable pain of sorrow despite none of her direct involvement.

The sight wasn't what made her skin feel so cold, though. That was the thought of if she still had the biochip in her brain, and she could easily have been the cause of this sight.

Natasatch heard her human companion calling out as she took in the grim scenery, but it barely registered in her addled mind. She slowly started to come out of the haze, before she heard him call out, in a different direction.

"Nat, what are you doing over there?"

Whatever weariness the Viper felt, it was gone that moment. It took half a second to process it, another half second to bolt.

Natasatch rounded the corner, and sees Malcolm looking away, at another Viper. Thanks to the smoky fog, she might have been fooled herself. She had the same amber and orange colors as her human-aligned kin, Natasatch's repainted blue armor the only visual distinction. Natasatch saw her fellow leaning back in preparation of her lash out, and that Malcolm was about to die, and in a roundabout way, because of her.

Natasatch hissed loudly, raising her gun, but she wasn't fast enough. A pale pink leash shot out from the enemy, the other Viper's tongue reaching out and deftly snagging Malcolm's neck. He let out a alarmed yell, echoed over the human radio, cut short by the force of being pulled in.

A green beam cut the retracting tongue like a scalpel. The renegade Viper's attack, a frenzied shot fired from the hip, luckily stopped the opposing Viper's maneuver mid action, sending Malcolm sprawling to the ash-laden ground. She turned her rage at her counterpart, recoiling and hissing from the pain.

Even through the smoke, Natasatch viewed the loyalist Viper's eyes in razor sharp focus, the red slits colored an identical hue. She saw the widening of the eyelids from the confusion from her fellow's betrayal, and the dulling sheen of rage and indignation.

Those livid, familiar eyes made the perfect targets. Natasatch's next shot struck dead center through one, continuing neatly out the other side of her head. Her life ended with only a quiet gurgle.

Natasatch didn't have any time to think, because she was already in motion. The enemy Viper's tongue had snared his neck, and her counter-insurgency training had noted how quickly humans died were it broken. But her human wouldn't die that easily. He couldn't. Could he?

The human had only begun coughing and pushing his head off the ground when he was ensnared by another Viper, almost tackling him and pulling him upright. The crushing vice failed to tighten, and he blinked as a familiar alien face came into focus. She was so wide-eyed, frenzied, like he'd never seen before.

"Are you okay!" Natasatch tried to ask, but it came out more like a yell.

Her claws scraped against his olive, sootied skin, unhooking the tongue of the viper, which was still flailing around uselessly. She might have been disgusted, perhaps at the gore or perhaps at herself, were she not preoccupied. Her tense face softened as he raised a hand, his palm touching her snout.

Malcolm came to his senses, noticing his friend's concern first. Red dripped from a gash on his forehead, from the long drag in the debris, but otherwise unharmed. He let out a hacking cough before he spoke. "I'm f-fine," he panted. "Thanks there. Nice shot"

"You can't die," Natasatch said. Whether it was a plea or a declaration, she couldn't even tell herself. She shut her eyes, pressing her muzzle harder into Malcolm's hand. Everything was okay.

Whatever moment they shared, it ended quickly. Another XCOM operative hurried around the corner, instinctively firing his shotgun at the sight of a viper coiled around a human. It missed by a wide margin, before McCann soldier recognized her armor and realized his mistake. An awkward and relatively-silent beat passed as their gazes crisscrossed.

"That's XCOM for you," Malcolm cracked as Natasatch uncoiled. For once, bad luck was their fortune.


	7. Rolling The Dice

The aftermath of the ADVENT strike proceeded quickly, Malcolm explaining XCOM's efficiency to Natasatch as a simple matter of having lots of practice. In accordance with procedure, the returning soldiers met a line of paramedics after their brief debriefing, and one of them determined the gash along Malcolm's forehead serious enough for treatment. Less than half an hour later of pacing along the Advanced Warfare Center corridor, Natasatch was given the clearance to her friend, much to the security detail's relief.

Proceeding down the row of curtained hospital beds, the Viper came upon Malcolm locked in a heated discussion with an orderly. To her relief, he only sported a few stitches, yet he appeared anything but happy. He explained to her how it was a minor injury, and that he had the proper medical training make that judgement, and that mandatory bedrest was stupid and the reason the last mission deployed soldiers out of their area of expertise. The nurse carefully considered his comments, then she expertly discarded them in short order, leaving the young man with a pain medication and a request to "suck it up, buttercup."

Grumbling, Malcolm turned to Natasatch, who waited patiently through the whole tirade. His agitation softened as their eyes met. She inhaled, and spoke.

"Are you doing well, Malcolm?"

"I'm perfectly fine, Nat," he said. "Despite what those quacks say."

She tilted her head, puzzled. He quickly added, "It means a doctor who doesn't know what they're doing."

"Ah."

The rest of the conversation hit familiar, but comforting points. Malcolm commended her performance, Natasatch enjoyed the praise and offered compliments in return, and they both laughed recounting the new recruit's abysmal marksmanship. She pointed out the frequency of his yawns, the early deployment and combat fatigue finally catching up to the young human.

"Sorry I can't keep this up for much longer," he said. Malcolm yawned again. "How about we continue this when I get released?"

Natasatch's hood relaxed, contented. "I would like that," she said.

"See you in a few hours."

"Yes."

He shut his eyes, and nodded off within moments.

* * *

Some time later, Malcolm stirred awake. Turning his head, his eyelids opened just a hair, enough to see that a familiar alien face in the same spot.

In soft-spoken but curious voice, he spoke, "...Nat?"

"Malcolm?"

"You're still here."

"Yes."

Malcolm pivoted his head, looking at the electronic clock on the wall. 6:52. "You've been here for six hours?"

"Yes." She repeated.

"Doing what?"

"Waiting, obviously," the Viper said, in the same matter-of-fact tone that only increased his concern.

"Oh boy," he said under his breath.

"You know don't need to wait around for me, Nat. Those nurses are blowing this outta proportion. I'm going to be fine, even if you walk around for a bit."

"I know that, Malcolm."

"So... you're still worried?"

Natasatch hesitated. "...No."

Malcolm didn't look convinced, and neither did Natasatch, for that matter.

"Maybe a little," she conceded.

Malcolm sighed. "Nat, I think you should... go off on your own for a bit. Relax. It's not doing you any good staying here and fussing over me, huh?"

She cast her gaze downward, suddenly sullen. "Are you mad at me?"

"Nat, no, no. I'm not upset with you at all."

"Then why do you want me to leave?"

"I'm worried about you, Nat."

"How is that? You're the one on the hospital bed."

Malcolm chuckled, much to the Viper's appreciation. "Not that you'll get hurt, really. But if something worse happens to me, what will you do?"

Natasatch stayed silent, retreating further and further within herself. The young man watched her for a bit, then rolled his head to the side, taking in the other occupants of the room. The other injured soldiers were sleeping, or watching their alien guest of the corner of their eyes. Except for one...

He spoke up. "Hey, Lieutenant! Mercier!"

"Hmm?" Across the med bay, the woman in question turned from the male patient she stood huddled over.

"Could you come over here?"

Mercier nodded, turning back to her bedside companion for a moment to give him a peck on the lips, then stood up and closed the distance. Arriving at the foot of the bed, the woman stood an arm's length from Natasatch, yet only gave her a single glance. Good.

"We were still playing our game tonight, right?"

"Yeah, in-" she looked to the wall clock, "-five minutes. Looks like you'll miss it."

"Actually, Natasatch here wants to take my place."

Natasatch's hood flexed in surprise. "I do?"

"Yep, she does,"Malcolm said.

Mercier gave him a dubious look. "Does she now? Alright, but does Natsatch know how to play?"

"No, but I was hoping you'll teach her. Nat's a quick learner."

Mercier looked to Natasatch this time. The alien swayed slightly in thought, eventually answering "I suppose?"

Malcolm's face sported a lopsided grin, promising complete innocence and benevolence. It felt too lively for him to be confined in the drab hospital bed, which prompted the officer to tilt her head and probe again. "What are you playing at here, Silva?"

"Don't you want to make a new friend?"

"Do you really think this will be a good idea?"

"Is having her twiddling her thumbs for hours next to some twitchy injured soldiers a better one?"

"Why are you responding to her questions with further questions?" Natasatch butted in.

"Hmm..." Mercier tapped her lips with an index finger a few times. "Oh, alright."

She turned to the Viper, who straightened her stance at the attention. "Alright, Miss Natasatch, let's go have some fun."

Beckoning at the door, she moved to leave. Natasatch followed; it was hard not to notice the other patients relaxing with her departure. Before she left, she gave a final look at her human. Malcolm smiled and gave her a thumbs up, putting her somewhat at ease.

* * *

While the hangar was located on the other side of the Avenger, the lack of floor transitions resulted in a short journey. The path only placed a few staff between the two and their destination, and Natasatch was pleased to see no paranoid crew with hands on their sidearm holsters. They merely ducked into doorways or pressed flat on the wall when the two passed in the tight corridor, but Natasatch felt that was an improvement.

As the two girls entered the hangar, the human pointed at the assembly of people barely over the armory threshold. The game table, she found, was not a table at all, but instead a shipping crate at waist-height. Three seated humans and two empty chairs circled the container, with their focus on a patterned mat with various plastic pieces on the top. Mercier whistled to get their attention.

"Huh, wasn't expecting her to show up," one of them spoke. Natasatch recalled the german-accented sniper from her first mission, but the face slipper her memory. Schwarzschild, was it?

The human she didn't recognize had a more animated reaction. He stood up, eyes widening, and he reached for his gun in his empty holster. He grimaced. "What's that thing doing here?"

"This 'thing' is going to play Monopoly with us," Mercier stated, adjusting her beret.

The defiant human's eyes grew wide, aghast, and declared, "It can't. Everyone knows it can't be out of its pen unguarded."

Calmly, Mercier responded. "In case you haven't noticed, my dear Ackers, she isn't unguarded at all. She's with us right now."

Natasatch locked eyes with the belligerent human, apparently known as Ackers. His angry eyes narrowed, but his quickening breath and occasional glances around betrayed a deeper emotion. He was afraid, and a few months ago, she'd have capitalized on that. Yet, now she approached him for a social call, essentially, and Natasatch found her own body sabotaging the attempt. It couldn't be helped, she supposed. She clasped her hands together and tried to shorten her stance as she addressed him.

"I'm not trying to be your enemy, Mister Ackers."

Despite the cracks, the human kept his composure. He responded, slowly and evenly. "I don't care. You'll never be my friend, alien."

Mercier pointed a thumb at the hangar exit. "If you don't like it, you can always leav-"

"I will." Ackers interrupted, stomping his way to the hangar exit with as loudly as he could. He gave Natasatch a wide berth.

Watching the doors close with the remaining humans, Natasatch turned her head forward again. The Viper took a deep breath, and hoped the other humans wouldn't react the same. Fortunately, she detected no vitriol in the rest. Best recover as much of a good impression as she can.

"I'm... sorry for his reaction."

Mercier waved it off. "You can't win them all, I suppose. Now, let's sit down."

Natasatch found the humanoid folding chairs ergonomically unsuited to her, so the Viper elected to simply curl into a smaller spot and lower her stance to the rest's relative eye level. They took a moment to briefly reintroduce themselves; Natasatch recognized the Russian-accented Morsov from the anatomy class last week, and finally learned the name of the German soldier, Schwarzschild, from another combat mission longer ago.

Mercier took a moment to explain the rules of Monopoly, to how the objective was to move your avatar about the ring on the board, acquiring locations and accumulating currency. Natasatch inherited Malcolm's piece, a spent pistol casing, and his sizeable fortune of paper money. She found it easier to understand it as a game of arithmetic and securing locations, so she cautiously treaded forward.

She started to enjoy plopping down those plastic domiciles, Natasatch decided, as she turned a green one over in her claws. The thought of having possessions to her name appealed, in an avaricious way, to the part of her that rebelled against the Elders in the first place. Another dice roll, and Natasatch landed on one of the last few unowned properties, which she quickly rectified. Taking advantage of a pause caused from the transaction, Schwarzschild inquired, "May I ask about how Vipers found their amusement back when you were with Advent?"

"Yes, you may," she responded slyly, clawed digit drawing circles around her new acquisition.

He stood there, perplexed, before the rest of the table snickered. He wasn't the first human to fall into that verbal trap when addressing her.

"Oh, haha. Clever!" Schwarzschild remarked. "So, how did you pass the time back in ADVENT? Tell any jokes? You seem pretty good at them."

Natasatch swelled with the praise. "Rarely, actually. And thank you."

"Any board games like this?"

"Hmm, no."

"What about cards?"

"Games of chance were forbidden, upon the threat of termination. Gambling encourages disobedient behavior."

"Oh, that... makes a lot of sense."

She shrugged. "That was the official stance, but we didn't need such distractions anyway."

She noticed Schwarzschild glanced at her chest, or rather, her shoulders. It took the Viper moment to remember the gesture wasn't natural of her species, but thought it certainly was unintentional, the slip was not unwelcome.

Schwarzchild started speaking again. "So, what do you guys do, then?"

The Viper rapped her claws on the table in thought, trying to find the right translations. "If we ever need stimulation, we go to the... well, the best I can translate to is a 'Cascade Theater.'"

"Go on."

"It's an intriguing device that fills up the room with light and color. If you look in it, you see images, sounds, like a sort of trance. It's hard to describe the sensation, since it's always different, but after you lose track of time and finish, you always feel refreshed, and content." She glanced around, and the humans appeared just as confused as before. "Sorry if I can't explain it well."

Schwarzschild stroked his chin, his fingers lightly plucking at the hair beneath. "So, that's what you aliens do for entertainment?"

"Largely."

"At least they weren't reading trashy romance ebooks," commented Mercier. "That seems to be the only genre that's published anymore."

Morsov cleared his throat. "That's really interesting, but we're busy with our human entertainment here. Now hurry up and roll, Mari."

The game resumed, and Natasatch's luck turned from acceptable to diabolical. After rolling two ones (which made the humans giggle amongst themselves - she never asked why), two threes, and two ones again in a row, her tiny avatar was impounded for "speeding" despite traveling less distance than the player before her, as the Viper quickly pointed out. Newly freed from imprisonment, the brass piece immediately cleared the jail's confines onto a well-developed utility tile owned by Morsov.

"Ooh, damn, Nat, you landed on the worst possible tile," he commented, a wicked grin set on his face. "You'll owe me... two hundred."

Natasatch looked to her money stack, and she realized just how depleted her reserves had grown with her purchase-happy style. In total, one hundred eighty. She blinked.

"I don't have enough to pay," she conceded.

"You can sell some of your properties to make the money back," offered Mercier.

Years ago, Natasatch witnessed a peculiar thing. During a skirmish with rebels, a building collapsed on an ADVENT soldier, and fighting through the pain, she witnessed him hack his own mutilated legs off to crawl away from the ruins, apparently trying to avoid being caught helpless. Of course, the soldier died a few minutes later from the blood loss, his desperate action buying him a slightly-delayed death. In the present, the Viper underwent a similar experience of chopping her own tail off to escape the inevitable, as consecutive rolls forced her to sell off more and more property with no opponents landing on her own dwindling squares. She gave one last roll, landing on yet another tile owned by that ruthless Russian, but now with no more of her own tail to devour.

"Horosho!" Morsov declared, looking thoroughly pleased with his accomplishment. "You're out, girl."

Her nostrils flared in annoyance, and she tried to find a familiar face for to focus on. Of course, her go-to was absent, and Mercier only gave a sheepish shrug. Schwarzschild only looked on, bemused. It wasn't her fault she didn't succeed in a game she only learned less than an hour ago. She complained, "That was unfair. There's no reason for housing to ever cost that much."

"That's the rules of the game," Morsov responded.

"So your goal is drive your fellows to ruin?"

He was toying with his quarry, now. "It's my favorite part."

"Hmph."

He stuck an elbow to his male friend's side. "Man, Malcolm's going to love hearing about how he went from first to worst."

Natasatch didn't stop the hiss that came, the sound echoing through the cavernous hangar, startling the other players. Conflicting urges danced through her mind; a small part of the Viper wanted to put Morsov in a bind and see how he liked it, though the rational part of herself shut that suggestion down quickly. Another part of her found only herself to blame, as Malcolm had trusted her to win their game and befriend some others, and both goals were falling apart obviously.

An urge to get up, get out, get away nearly won, but Natasatch straightened her livid stance to fight it back. As calmly as she could manage, placed her wad of fake money on the table, crumpled from her tight grip, said venomously, "Very well. Enjoy your robbery."

Natsatch resumed her sulking posture, and once the initial shock wore off, the game resumed. Eventually, the chatter between the competing players worked its way back onto the table, though significantly lower in volume, and the sombre alien didn't join in as before. She'd ruined any chance of a good impression with her outburst at a simple defeat so best to avoid irritating the wound further. And how she'd deliver the news to her friend, she dreaded imagining.

A human voice broke her from her ruminations. "Hey, Natasatch."

She looked up at Schwarzschild, who was trying his best to look friendly. "Thank you for, uh..." He trailed off."

"Not attacking you?" Natasatch finished.

"Uh, keeping your cool."

She closed her eyes momentarily and released a held breath. "I wouldn't be that foolish to attack over an imaginary slight," she stated, and oddly, a lot of the aggression seemed to depart with that calming exhale.

"Not that you would! I wasn't worried at all."

She looked to him, raising an eye ridge. Schwarzschild sighed, and sheepishly admitted. "Okay, perhaps I was worried, slightly. But, you're alright, Natasatch. Still less of a sore loser than Morsov here."

She looked to the man in question, indignant at yet not denying the claim. Their eyes met, and Morsov stuck out his tongue. Another mocking gesture, but no malice lurking behind his face. Just like before, she finally noticed. She tilted her head forward, mimicking Morsov by holding her long tongue out in front of her. The Viper fought her instinct to retract it immediately, and was rewarded with the humans smiling at the unexpected display. Perhaps this experience was not a total failure, after all.

"Hmm, maybe you're not an evil alien. But you're still a loser at Monopoly," said Morsov.

"Check where you landed again, because you're about to join her," taunted Mercier.

"What do you- wait, no!"

The Russian soldier descended into curses in his native tongue. The other humans laughed at the how the newcomer's own misfortune quickly turned on Morsov, and with a distinct lack of hesitation, Natasatch joined her compatriots' mirth. She remembered, briefly, Malcolm back in his hospital bed, but only thought of how sullen he would be hearing what he missed, and she realized that her human had a point.


	8. New Frontiers

It wasn't until everyone was gone that Natasatch realized just how populated her room became. Almost a dozen XCOM operatives filed into her little refuge an hour ago, far more than the typical occupant count of one Viper and occasionally one human. Even with the breach of her space, Natasatch enjoyed it all, since she was celebrating along with them.

For the third time in a minute, Natasatch tilted her head to the side and rolled her shoulder forward, viewing the three gold chevrons on a cloth badge safety-pinned to her new hoodie. That was the first gift of today, a surprise Malcolm sprung perfectly. He led her to a promotion ceremony like any other, and shot her a toothy grin when the Viper heard her name announced. Central Officer Bradford promoted him to sergeant alongside her, but all the eyes were on the alien who was now an official XCOM soldier. To her and many of the audience, it was all unreal.

It was real, right? It couldn't hurt to check it again.

Even with her gaze on her sergeant's stripes, she could sense Malcolm just off to the side, clearing the table of any litter from the modest festivities. He hummed a soft tune, occasionally peeking over and catching Natasatch admiring her insignia. She hadn't asked directly, but Natasatch surmised her friend was the reason she was enjoying her new status, if the way Bradford and Mercier summoned the man before the ceremony proved anything.

She saw them afterwards as well. Bradford briefly visited to wish her well and remind her that she was taking on even greater responsibilities now, similarly but much more informal than his promotion speech. Lieutenant Mercier did the same and stayed longer, congratulating her little rascal on showing the rest of XCOM her dedication. Morsov and McCann wanted to see how she was reacting, and requested Natasatch's help in gaming the growing betting racket over her future actions. Schwarzschild and Taylor brought their own gifts, which were a board game involving letters and the hoodie she now wore, respectively. Even some unknown faces came to visit. And they all wanted the beer that Malcolm provided.

Malcolm enjoyed the beer too, of course. Yet, his attendance was a given, the same as always. Natasatch paused a moment. It occurred to her she couldn't quite pin down _why_ Malcolm's presence was so certain. Her inability to answer that question wasn't because of the alcohol, either. One taste was enough for her to shun the liquid for the foreseeable future.

Natasatch looked over to her human friend. Conveniently, he'd finished tying the waste bag, and sat on a folding stool and as he reached for his beer bottle. Malcolm took a swig as he met his gaze with her.

He asked, "What's up, Nat?"

Natasatch tasted the air. She knew by now the smell of human breath, and currently it was laced with that foul-smelling liquid in their drinks. Not an excessive amount, in Malcolm's defense, but enough to 'loosen his lips,' as the idiom book said. Besides, now that Natasatch was an actual member of XCOM, she no longer had that Gremlin monitoring her every moment, something she'd hope Malcolm would appreciate. "I have a question."

The human answered jovially, despite not having heard the question. "Don't worry, don't worry, I got you a gift too. I wouldn't forget now, would I?"

Natasatch's eyes widened slightly. Another gift wouldn't be unwelcome. "Aah... thank you, Malcolm! But, it's something else."

Malcolm took another drink from his beer. "Shoot."

The Viper inhaled, taking a moment to collect herself before she began. "You like me."

Her enhanced senses meant the spot of heat rising in his cheeks didn't go unnoticed, but Malcolm's only outward response was to raised an eyebrow. "That question sounded a lot like a statement to me."

She raised an eyebrow right back. The Viper had learned his human tricks. "So, it's true?"

He shrugged. "Don't I like everyone, Nat?"

"Hmm, that's also true." Her human friend certainly had a way with other humans. "But you like me more than others," she added, playfully.

"I like all my friends equally! Even my favorites. Especially my favorites!" Malcolm dramatically waved around the arm gripping his beer, the golden liquid in the clear glass bottle swirling with the chaotic motions. Certainly distracting, but she refocused on the owner of the arm.

The human's face was warming further, but no signs of anger or fear. Good. She was pressing in the right places. Natasatch continued, "My question is, _why_ are we friends?"

"Because we enjoy each other's company, I hope," Malcolm responded, furrowing his brow.

She slid a few feet forward, looking a little worried she was coming across the wrong way. Even with how much she'd learned so far, something always risked being lost in translation. She was curious, not angry. Malcolm picked up on her concern, allaying his own briefly. "I do, Malcolm. As long as we've known each other, we've been friends, unconditionally. But, I don't remember when we... weren't friendly."

"Care to continue, please?"

Natasatch did so. "Even when I was just a regular Viper soldier and you just a scavenger who passed by, you were sociable with me. Even beyond what was tolerable by ADVENT regulation. Why? You must have known how easily the our patrols could mistreat unregistered civilians, especially if I decided you broke the rules?"

Malcolm looked to be pondering an answer, or maybe just pondering taking another sip of his drink, but either way, he didn't respond yet. Natasatch spoke again, "What stopped you from just staying silent?"

A few moments passed as the Viper scrutinized the human, his figure slumped n his seat. Finally, Malcolm raised his head, and he finished the last of his beer before he looked to Natasatch, something bright behind his brown eyes.

"Actually... Can I show the gift for you? Now that I think about it, it's perfect!"

Natasatch sighed, and shrugged. She wouldn't force a direct answer out of him. Besides, she'd be getting her gift either way. "Very well, Malcolm."

"Great!"

Malcolm presented her with a small set of cases, each of which held an obsolete disk-shaped digital storage, with the words ' _Star Trek: TNG'_ written on one side in marker. He justified its obsolescence by how older data devices couldn't be remotely accessed and wiped like all commercially available modern storage could, and that these were the closest thing he had to a family heirloom, the inheritance from his late salvage boss. Malcolm needed to wire an entirely separate device to the modest holoprojector in the room to read the format, and the Viper used the time to get comfortable.

Finally, the human sat on the other side of her cushion as he dimmed the lights. The projector flashed on, illuminating the room in supple blues and whites. Despite obviously having viewed it many times, the opening crawl and narration continued to enrapture the human viewer, as did the first episode, the fifth, and the twenty-ninth (Malcolm apologized for the random sampling he had available). After the initial spectacle of space travel wore off, the alien viewer found herself considerably less enraptured, more interested in pointing out the obvious inaccuracies of historical development and lack of any of the _actual_ alien species of the galaxy.

Initially, Malcolm responded to her comments with enthusiasm, but eventually caught on. He lowered the volume and turned to his friend, slightly crestfallen. "Not enjoying the show very much?"

She shook her head, hood flexing as the motion turned into a stretch and a yawn. "I'm sorry," she admitted. "It must be a human thing."

Malcolm sighed, running a hand through his black hair. "Ah, don't worry, my friend," he said. "Star Trek isn't as popular with humans now. The 'final frontier' came to us, and it sucks. It's silly how hopeful we were back then."

Natasatch tilted her head, looking back to the screen. "I don't understand how you can enjoy it, honestly," she admitted. "There's nothing in there that's real or accurate, not even the plasma weapons or psionics."

Malcolm sighed. "That's not what I care about... Look at the people there. See how different they are?" He seemed almost frustrated. Fortunately, not at her, she presumed.

"They're humans, in different suits and rubber foreheads."

He gave a small, defeated chuckle. "That's true. But they're also meant to be aliens, at least in the story."

"Alright. Continue?"

"Look at where the 'aliens' are, Nat," he said, pointing at the screen. It was the bridge of the human vessel, _The Enterprise_. "They're at the command consoles next to humans, in cities with both humans and aliens. They're talking with humans. Marrying them! They're just people just like us, that look a little different. What do you think of that?"

That was consistent with Natasatch's observations. Yet... "I think that it's still a simulation."

Malcolm gave her a wry smile, taking a drink of water as he did so. "Maybe. Maybe. All stories are fake, in a way, even the true ones. Heh, especially the true ones. But sometimes, if enough people believe in the fake thing, they can make it real."

She didn't want to call her friend a fool, even if he was saying foolishness. "You think enough humans can... believe a Klingon into existence?"

He shrugged. "Nope. That's implausible. I only consider the impossible stuff, like the idea of aliens becoming XCOM sergeants."

Natasatch couldn't think of a response to that one. She touched the badge in question, just to see if it was real again. It was.

Malcolm had settled into the cushion again, and set the water bottle to the side. He said, "You asked me why I talked to you in the first place? It's because I wanted that." Malcolm angled his pointer finger at the screen.

"You want to captain your own space vessel?" she asked, half-joking. Malcolm laughed, and she gave a small chuckle with him, her head snaking back and forth in bemusement.

"That would be amazing, Nat. Captain Malcolm Silva has a nice ring to it. But I just want to live in their society, where... you know, aliens are just another kind of human, and we can all do wonders together. It's an old, campy, inaccurate fantasy, but I want it so much to be real that I..."

His smile died a little as each word passed from his lips, and Malcolm was dead serious when he gathered his thoughts again.

"You asked if I thought you were different from other Vipers? Well... I didn't," he admitted. "I'm sorry, but you were a just a Viper at first. Heh, when we first met, I was scared shitless! I didn't know if you would humor me or murder me for daring to speak to you uninvited. I knew firsthand how strict ADVENT could be, and I heard what a Viper could do to a person. But I didn't want to give up that dumb fantasy of mine, so much that I was willing to pretend I could befriend an alien."

"I thought it went excellent, as far as first introductions go," Natasatch assured. "Nobody had ever asked me my opinion on the weather, and in Standard as well. You had my interest."

"Luckily. I had nothing going for me but blind optimism. But I had to try, Nat. Even if the trying killed me."

Natasatch didn't like the sound of that. She uncurled herself from her recline, turning her body around to face him. In the dim lighting above and the soft blue glare from her side, her beige and orange scale shimmered against her lithe frame. The Viper couldn't help but look as much a predator as she ought to be, even as her wide red eyes tried to prove otherwise. "I would never attack you, Mal," she said.

Malcolm replied, genuinely, "I know."

At the same moment, the two realized how close the Viper's muzzle drifted over, having already crossed the halfway point of the cushion, and flustered simultaneously. Despite the heat in his face, Malcolm reached his opposite hand over, his palm connecting with the soft scales between her eyes.

"See? Would you believe that three months ago? Incredible."

Incredible. That's the word she'd use. The whole situation was quite familiar, but there was no battle or interrupting rookies to distract from the moment. The heat of Malcolm's hand sent ripples over the sensitive infrared receptors on her face, and his callouses only added to the feeling when he began to idly scratch her forehead. Natasatch shut her eyes, wiggling her nose a bit, focusing on this unusual (but not unpleasant) sensation, and a few minutes passed before the human's arms grew fatigued. He pulled away, and Natasatch took her time opening her red eyes to her dark, metal sanctuary again.

"Thank you for letting me believe just a little bit longer." Malcolm whispered, softly. She wouldn't have heard him over the already-quiet holospeaker if he wasn't next to her ear. The young human had closed his eyes by the time Natasatch turned to face him, the screen's glow brightening his olive skin. The alcohol, the day's events, and the episode marathon finally caught up to the energetic young man.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw the show's episode continue. The bald human captain was addressing his fellows, making an impassioned speech about respect for life and other human paradigms, concerning a pale human the show insisted was a synthetic. The reading materials given to her at the start of her integration included fiction, but once Natasatch recognized it for what it was, the Viper moved on to non-fiction and guides. A product of her programmed upbringing, now that she thought of it, to never look past that first layer, or to think critically for herself.

This time around, she listened, despite the sleep settling over her eyes interfering. It certainly sounded more true than her ADVENT directives ever proved. She'd lain her head down on her coils, curled up and comfortable and safe, in this human ship, next to her human friend. She took one more look at her still-extant badge as she closed her eyes. Before sleep overtook her, Natasatch whispered back. "Thank you, for believing in us."

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey guys. Sorry for the silence and the long absence. In a nutshell, my game broke for a while, but I got it working again and was inspired enough to write again. More details on my tumblr, of course. Thanks so much for sticking with me, and I hope this makes up for it.**


	9. Resistance, Part One

**A/N: I Have no excuse for how late this is or my radio silence, so I'm just going to leave this here and continue the story. Merry Christmas, everyone who stuck around.**

* * *

She couldn't remember the last time she'd instantly warmed to a sensation. The weightlessness, the coolness enveloping her, and the way the rest of the world muted itself overwhelmed her, leaving the Viper to drift in the gentle current. Only her idle thoughts rising above the stillness. Wasn't it odd how to feel like she slipped into a completely different world, when she was only a few feet underwater and only a few dozen feet from her friends? What other pleasures had the Elders tried to hide from her species? A slight twinge in her lungs paused her introspection, begging their owner for air, and reluctantly Natasatch complied.

Breaching the surface, Natasatch shook her head and inhaled, enjoying the feeling of the water droplets rolling off her scales. She'd been immersed in water before, typically from the hot sprays of a decontamination shower, but it was nothing to prepare her for the simple joy of a dive in a lake. Unnatural as her genetically-engineered species was, she took to the water almost naturally, racing ahead of her human crewmates. Their long human limbs were no match for her powerful tail, but that little moment of pause likely gave them time to catch up.

Her human friend, Malcolm, was the first of the swimmers to converge on her, mostly because she allowed him to. Turning to face him, Natasatch dove underwater again. She put her nictitating membranes to good use, and swam circles around her human compatriots in the murky brown water, until she grew bored and let Malcolm "catch" her. It perplexed her when all the humans immediately scampered away, but none could escape her once Mercier explained the rules, and they quickly gave up and went off on their own. It gave Natasatch plenty of time to idly float on the waters, which suited her fine.

Her right eyelid winced reflexively, and Viper only had a fraction of a second to process the disturbance before it disappeared. A small flash of light, at the very corner of her vision, which was enough to worry her. The glare of a sniper lens, perhaps? Was someone watching her?

Natasatch snapped her head back to the lakefront, her reflexes ready to juke away of any incoming projectile. Whatever made that brief burst of light ceased, and she couldn't detect anything amiss. Her tail's strokes increased in speed, compensating as she lifted her neck higher out of the water to scan for any threats along the ridges. Still nothing, but she realized that the small cliffs circling their half of the lake grotto would be a perfect sniper vantage, an observation that didn't ease her concern at all.

Another strobe of light flashed in her field of vision, and Natasatch could finally track its source. Several of the humans ashore huddled together, and one stood off to the side with a handheld device. It gave a tiny burst of light again, and Natasatch finally recognized the antique camera, though she wondered how the faint gleam even caught her attention at all. The camera operator must've simply snapped a panorama before focusing on the others.

With that mystery solved, the Viper willed herself to relax. She was an XCOM sergeant among allies, not the skittish alien they had brought aboard. She liked to think she'd trumped her uneasiness about being an outsider, but old fears tend to linger.

A grunt off to her left pulled Natasatch from her introspection. Malcolm apparently decided he wanted to add rock climbing to this small vacation, and began scampering up the rocks instead of wading ashore. She swam closer, watching her friend carefully hoist hand and leg around the jagged edges to reach safe footing. The water falling from his olive skin caught her attention as it reflected the sunlight, and she couldn't help but notice the way his back muscles clenched and relaxed in rhythm as he worked his way up. Natasatch didn't mind appreciating his developing physique, having witnessed the scrawny young adult transforming alongside her. Malcolm still had a ways to go, however, judging by the way he panted heavily when he climbed atop.

She was close enough that the sounds of her amusement carried over to the human's ears, and Malcolm turned over to peer down at his friend. His heavy breathing quieted immediately, trying to downplay his fatigue as he casually commented, "Lovely weather today, no?"

"It's perfect, Malcolm," Natasatch returned. "Thank you for inviting me along."

"Actually, I just passed the message along," he said. "We all wanted you to get some air fresh and not smelling of musty old books. I was worried you might forget what the sun feels like!"

The Viper raised an eye ridge, slightly annoyed. "Tsk, tsk, you ask me for months to start reading fiction books, and then you scold me for doing just that!"

"I wouldn't call what you do reading, more like... 'devouring.'" Truthfully, she approached her unopened collection of written fiction with plenty of enthusiasm after her film serial epiphany, but certainly not to the level her friends claimed.

Despite seeing the Viper roll her eyes, Malcolm continued as he stood, "Besides, you're a natural! You take to water like how... a duck takes to, ah, water." Natasatch easily sensed his cheeks flushing at his verbal bumble.

Natasatch opted to swim closer to the rocks, wanting a break treading water. Her lithe arms grabbed and anchored her body to the stones as she looked expectantly at Malcolm. The man's face looked quite annoyed at his fumble, but he was saved from explaining his metaphor by yet another flash of light to their side.

"Cheese!" announced Morsov, the comrade. leveling an obsolete digital camera at the two as he stood in the shallows. Swiveling her head, the Viper did her best to look as fun and non-threatening as possible, and she'd been practicing just that.

It wasn't her that would cause an issue. A yelp of pain from above broke her concentration, and Natasatch turned just in time to see Malcolm falling back into the lake sideways. She let out a small hiss as she shot herself forward, worst case scenarios exponentially crowding her mind.

Malcolm was grimacing and repeating some word in a non-English language when Natasatch grabbed hold of him. He opened his eyelids at the touch, seeing her own red eyes alight with concern. She asked, louder than necessary, "Are you okay, Malcolm?!"

He grunted, tilting his head toward his legs. "Slipped..." he said, gritting his teeth hard enough to look painful on its own. The Viper followed his gesture, and to her fright, saw a red haze tinting the water. She almost didn't notice the splashing of Morsov as he waded towards them and tapped her shoulder, and he spoke some Earth language she didn't understand when she turned her head from Malcolm. These humans already had over a dozen more languages than they needed, and yet still made up even more.

"I don't understand what you mean," she cut him off. "But we need to take him back to shore!"

Morsov gave a throaty chuckle. "Which was exactly what I was saying!"

He made another comment in his blocky Earth language, but she didn't bother to try to understand it. Working together, Natasatch and Morsov lifted their comrade back to shore, propping him against some bundled towels on dry ground. A thin trail of crimson in the pale dirt led from the water all the way to gash in Malcolm's leg, and the leg itself was staining a spare towel a similar hue. Natasatch felt a small measure of relief when she remembered that her present company included two with medical training, perhaps three of them if Malcolm was forced to self-operate.

Since Taylor possessed the sole medical bag among the group, and a small one at that, she volunteered to start administering treatment. Malcolm winced as the doctor prodded the moderate laceration open just slightly to check for any debris. To Natasatch's relief, she found none, and Taylor pulled her blonde hair back over her ears as she started perusing her modest medical kit. "Don't worry, dear," Taylor consoled. "It definitely could be worse."

A high-pitched alert blared from the two communicators off to the side, startling the tense group. Mercier brought her hand to her brow, letting out a sigh. "You were right."

Natasatch finally asked, "What does that mean? I don't think I've heard that alert before."

The lieutenant lowered her hand and took a deep breath before she explained, "It means a time-sensitive opportunity just came up. You know the drill. Back to the Avenger in ten, airborne in twenty."

"That's... going to be a problem," Malcolm said, monotone. He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes as Taylor swabbed the edges of the wound. Natasatch couldn't look away as she worked, despite how uncomfortable it made her. Not even her own wounds garnered this much attention as her friend's did this moment.

"Agreed," the doctor said. "This will take at least fifteen, and we shouldn't move before Mal here is stabilized. And that ladder is no easy task." She started applying moderate pressure to stem the bleeding, drawing a gasp from Malcolm and a subdued wince from Natasatch.

"So?" Morsov asked. "We carry wounded soldiers back to the dropship all the time."

"That's true, but that's only out of necessity," Malcolm countered. "We're safe here, and I'm not going to die unless I reach the medbay in fifteen minutes."

"Nine minutes now," Mercier's fiance stated, his voice gruff and unfamiliar. That was the first word Natasatch heard from the man all day, now that she thought of it.

Mercier clenched her first as she looked between the rope ladder exit and Malcolm. "I know, I know. Taylor, hurry up, we may have to carry him back anyway. I don't like it, but we need everyone back."

Malcolm spoke up again. "Hey, L-T, why don't we try calling it in? We're not being lost in the wilderness, we're right next to a Haven. I can tough it out until our Resistance friends can come help, and you guys get back to the Avenger."

"I can't, Silva. That's a serious breach of protocol."

"Can't hurt to ask," was all Malcolm had to offer.

"Eight minutes," Mercier's fiance helpfully added.

Mercier sighed again, moving a few paces forward and grabbing one of the communicators. She made gave Malcolm a final look before opening the channel. "I can tell you right now, it's not going to work." The woman pushed the transmit button, sounding off, "Come in, Schultz, this is Belltower..."

To the group's surprise, it worked. Mercier received the go-ahead less than a minute later once she explained the situation, and when contacting the Haven comm officer, he almost immediately agreed to send a few guys to take care of them. Natasatch imagined their perplexed lieutenant was wondering where their luck was four minutes ago, but Mercier knew better than to complain. The group cleared out their belongings by minute five, when the Viper tapped Mercier on the shoulder, trying to downplay her worry as she posed a question.

"Lieutenant, I would like to stay here for now."

"Oh Jesus, Nat, not you too," Mercier said, indignant. "Just because we bent the rules once doesn't mean you can do it again two minutes later! And why, anyway?"

Natasatch exhaled, keeping eye contact with the shorter female. Despite wearing only a two-piece bikini instead of her combat armor, Mercier's presence felt just as strong. "I don't think Sergeant Silva should be left alone, especially with his injuries."

"In that case, I should ask Taylor to stay and help Silva. For one, she's the medic, and two, she won't freak out the Resistance when they come to help."

Natsatch remained level, but suspected some of her frustration started to slip through. The Viper didn't have to glance back at Malcolm to know he was listening intently, and probably silently pleading with his commanding officer. She didn't want to lose this argument. "Sir, Taylor has already stabilized him, and I can assist since he also knows medicine. And, if I remember right, you said the Resistance already knows about me and my status within XCOM." The final part came out softer than she imagined. "Please, let me help my friend."

"He's my friend too, Nat. So are you. Now let's go." She motioned to the rope ladder.

"Please."

Mercier slowly broke eye contact from the alien. She looked at Malcolm, then back at Natasatch, and for some reason, looked over at her fiance, who didn't say a word. Finally, the officer gave her final sigh of the day. "Just because I like you so much, Nat."

Natasatch instantly straightened, now trying to hide her elation instead of concern. "Thank you, Mercier!"

"Stay safe, you two. And, uh," she glanced down, making a peculiar face, "... you know what? Keep the swimsuit, it looks great on you."

She peeked down at herself, and her venom sacs were still held securely by the white fabric, even if that was the only area the apparel covered. "Thank you, I think?"

Mercier's fiance spoke for the third time. "Three minutes."

Mercier lovingly added, "SHIT!"

Judging by their comrades' speed, they probably would have arrived with two minutes to spare, at least Natasatch imagined so. She had faith in her humans. Three minutes later, a powerful hum softly shook the earth beneath the Viper and human, and they looked up to see the gray underside of the _Avenger_ passing above them.

The setting sun was in her eyes, making it hard to see as the craft flew north towards the horizon. Still, the sight captivated her. The Avenger moved with purpose, steady and powerful, with the sunlight reflecting off the hull, and it was the first time Natasatch gleaned a good look from the outside. Come to think of it, this was also the first time she'd seen such pristine wilderness.

The beauty lasted only for a few more moments, since the Avenger shrunk and disappeared over the horizon only moments later. Then, the two were alone. Nothing to do but wait and enjoy the view.

And it was quite the view.

Natasatch slid herself forward, drinking it in, to use the human saying. Metaphors were absent from her old life, every word was meant to be to the point. The Viper closed her eyes, simply enjoying the warmth on her face, and her breathing slowed to a relaxed cadence.

Malcolm gave a low whistle, grabbing Natasatch's attention. "Now that's a pretty sight."

She turned to him, he's grinning at her. She felt a tugging at the sides of her lips, the feeling tighter on the right than the left. Her human friend cocked his head, looking surprised. "Hold on now, is that a real smile?"

Her muscles' tightness hampered her slightly, but not nearly as much as she expected during her response. She teased back, "And the other times weren't real?"

"I'll let you in on a secret, Nat," Malcolm said. "Humans always know if a smile's genuine or not. If somebody does it wrong, we either get really annoyed or really worried. But right now, the one you're doing, it's the most genuine smile I've ever seen from a non-human."

"I find that pleasing. Thank you, my friend." She paused, then raised an eye ridge. "Is there competition in that category?"

"Well, let's just say you're dominating right now."

Natasatch rolled her eyes, and to her consternation her smile wouldn't subside. She flicked her tongue as the idleness resumed, and the coppery tang of blood reminded her how this moment came to be. Their rescuers were certainly late by now.

Natasatch seriously considered suggesting self-operation, despite knowing it would be Malcolm's last resort, when she noticed someone photographing her again. A flash of light from the clifftop caught her mid-stretch, which annoyed the viper slightly. Natasatch was still convinced she was the subject of an amateur photographer as her body instinctively flung itself sideways.

A fraction of a second afterward a bullet sliced through the air she just vacated. When the sniper rifle's booming report resounded through the rocky lagoon the Viper came alive again, coiled and alert as she put a thick rock between herself and where she saw the len's flash.

Malcolm reacted a second or two after the Natasatch, making himself small behind the same chest-high stone as her. Their eyes met, both of their eyes wide and worried as even more human gunfire erupted.

He reached into the pack he'd dragged with himself, pulling out and fumbling with the communicator. He held it upright, and spoke in a hurried tone Natasatch never heard before. "Safari Outpost, this is Sergeant Silva, we are under fire! If these are your guys, tell them to stop shooting!"

The gunfire didn't stop. One round struck the top of their cover, spraying their heads with bits of rock. Natasatch hissed in response. Surely their assailants would wear down the rocks in a few minutes. Blinking out the dust, Malcolm clutched the radio tighter and repeated his plea.

The communicator finally responded. Natasatch couldn't pick up any words in the chaos, but the voice sounded deep and firm. Her worst worries were confirmed when Malcolm's worried face dropped to a look ofdisappointment.

"What now?!" The Viper asked, nearly yelling.

He looked back up to her. "I don't think they believe we're XCOM," he answered. "But our rescue wants to kill you anyway."

A sigh she released turned into a low hiss, as the Viper's body went icy cold, but also molten hot. She hadn't been this fired up in months, and it almost felt relieving. Malcolm's hand went back into his bag as she peered over her cover. Four targets were advancing on them, plus the sniper above. Natasatch lowered her body down, planning a response as her mind and instincts worked in tandem.

She tssked. "It will take more than a simple rescue to kill us."


	10. Resistance, Part Two

**A/N: I sneezed and half the year was gone. So I'm just going to drop it off, go back into my hidey hole, and tell you I have more of an explanation on my tumblr. Hope this chapter at least half as good as you were hoping for.**

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Natasatch ought to be furious that their rescuers were attempting to murder them, or worried how her injured friend would fare in the firefight, or wondering how to contact the Avenger when their only communication line was these angry rebels. Those concerns took a backseat for the moment, as a familiar cold fury took the helm. This was far simpler than human social intricacies. It what Natasatch was bred and trained to do.

Eliminate the opposition, fulfil the mission. Kill the rebels and protect Malcolm. The two goals were in sync. The attackers could hardly kill her human if they were dead.

From a daring peek over the rock, she got a better fix on the targets. Closest was a human male with a shotgun, followed by a small human female with an assault rifle that looked far too large for her. Mid -range were two more human males suppressing them, one missing an eye with a gray shirt and another hiding his face behind a blue bandana. And of course, the sniper, the lens glare position showing no movement from his original firing position.

Natasatch reflexively switched her rifle off of safe mode, but of course simply thumbed the empty air. She groaned, but felt a slight sense of relief as she saw Malcolm pulling out a pistol holster from his pack. He shot her a smile as he checked the revolver's chamber, as glad as her to see the odds against them slightly reduced.

The Viper spoke louder to counter the gunfire. "How much ammunition do you have, Malcolm?"

"Not enough to fight our way out of here!" He responded. "But I got another plan!"

She nodded, and to her complete surprise, Malcolm threw his only weapon into the dirt.

He already stood up before she realized what her apparently-insane friend was attempting, with his hands empty and raised up in the air. Perhaps his unexpected surrender honestly gave the attackers pause, or maybe he caught them mid reload, but Malcolm stood straight up and wasn't dead the next moment. Breathing heavily for another second, he finally addressed the gunmen.

"Stop shooting? Good, good, thank you! This is all just a misunderstanding, and we don't need to hurt each other." Malcolm said. The water from his swim had evaporated by now, but fresh drops of sweat once again glinted off his face as his mouth worked.

Natasatch half-hissed, half-whispered an objection, but a wave of his hand quieted her after the first word. "I'm going to reason with them," the human whispered from the side of his mouth.

No response came from the attacker's side of the valley, and Malcolm continued, "I'm Sergeant Silva, XCOM, and so is Natasatch. The Viper, I mean. You're with Safari, right?"

A gruff, deep human voice answered him. "Obviously."

The Viper watched Malcolm's brow raise, and he spoke more freely, "Yeah, we called your guys, explained that we need a medic. And of course we mentioned the Viper. If you're not who they sent, you can call in and they'll tell you-"

"Oh, we got your message alright," the same voice answered. Peering out from the side of the rock, the Viper saw it belonged to the closest human with a shotgun, tall and lean and with a radio headset and shades. Yet, there was something familiar about the way he talked.

Malcolm realized it just as Natasatch did. "Hey wait, you're the one who answered when the LT called in, aren't you?"

The radioman looked back and forth, the accusation landing spot on, but a shrill yelling caught their attention. The human female raised her rifle and screamed, "Just fuckin' shoot the traitor already!"

The girl started unloading her rifle afterwards, but she'd given Malcolm plenty of time to duck back into cover. The air once again filled with bullets, and Malcolm's palm met his forehead as he groaned.

"Well, you tried," Natasatch offered when he looked to her. Malcolm grabbed the revolver and she turned around, and flinched when she felt Malcolm's hand tugging on her shoulder.

He looked impossibly lucid when he said his next request. "Nat, listen! We're not trying to kill them."

She rolled her eyes. "Now is not the time for humor, Mal!"

"I'm serious!" He was, to her surprise. "Don't! Kill! Anyone!"

The Viper hissed in frustration. "You already tried being nice!"

"I know! But we _need_ to keep trying, Natasatch!"

"Mikey, move up!" One of the attacker's voices called, and more shots whittled the top of their cover. Whatever safety they had right now wouldn't exist in a few seconds. Natasatch needed to make a decision.

She looked at Malcolm's eyes again, and she noticed how... calm he looked. Genuine, sincere. As if his plan wasn't utter foolishness. His peace infected her as his brown irises reflected the setting sun. "Please," he spoke, almost inaudible.

He won. But that didn't mean she needed to be gentle.

Their attackers stood in the open, confident their prey was unarmed, a mistake quickly exposed as Malcolm fired his revolver in their general direction and sent them diving to cover. Furthest from anywhere to hide, the shotgun-wielding radioman turned back to bark something to his comrades as a pink tongue wrapped around his waist and flung him forward. Impacting the waist-high stone, the rebel tumbled over into the damp earth with a thud, and Malcolm was on him as soon as Natasatch unwrapped her tongue. He struck the radioman's face with the butt of the revolver, and the Viper felt a fresh rush of adrenaline as she heard the cartilage of his nose crack. The human howled in pain, but stopped as Malcolm pressed the barrel of the revolver just behind his ear and pushed his face further into the dirt.

Her human spoke with an ice she'd rarely heard before, a cold tone of authority. "Stay down, buddy."

The radioman struggled half a second more, then went limp and placed his hands over his head in surrender. He wouldn't be a problem for the immediate future.

A girlish roar of anguish caught her ears, the young human furious at losing an ally. She yelled and charged towards the two defenders, and then yelled louder and charged backwards even faster when Natasatch spat poison in her vicinity. The Viper's cloud didn't impact the girl, and she'd meant it more as a smokescreen, but the young girl panicked anyway and toppled behind another boulder.

"Nice pull!" Malcolm commented.

"Thanks you, but that's only the first one," Natasatch responded, and the flurry of grunts and footsteps from the attackers seemed to agree with her.

"They're moving up, Nat! Could you-"

She'd already sprung up and spotted the next threat. The girl, nearly running forward, stopped and flinched at the sight of the Viper up close. Natasatch clenched her chest and felt the venom force it's way up her throat, and she spat the cloud of green miasma to cut off the advance. Controlling her poison cloud was second nature, and it went exactly where she aimed it to where it wouldn't instantly catch the rebels in the spray. Yet, the young female screamed as if she'd been hurt and scampered away. Natasatch would have chuckled at the rebel's cowardice, if she had the time.

The hazy poison cloud shrouded the two from the rest of the attackers, but that hardly meant they were safe. Bullets cut wildly through the miasma, hoping to score a lucky hit. Still, her poison gave them an opportunity.

Malcolm gestured at a dirt incline further down the horseshoe, and dashed for the new cover, his feet kicking muddy water as he ran. Natasatch had no trouble following him, sliding over the drop only moments later.

The weapons fire stopped, replaced by a volley of insults being thrown their way. Not that Natasatch minded, it simply gave her info on the rebels' positions. But the one threat she couldn't hear concerned her the most.

"We need to take out that sniper," she stated. Malcolm gave her a quick nod.

He glanced at the cliff closest to them, then pointed further down the way, at a clump of plants climbing the walls like... well, like a snake. "See those vines?"

"Yes."

"Think you can climb them?"

Natasatch frowned. The Viper understood his line of thought, but she just didn't like it. "I'm not leaving you alone and injured, Malcolm." She put a fingertip on his leg wrap, making him flinch a bit.

The human gave her a small smile, but he hardly seemed enthusiastic either. He only offered, "I know, but we're not going anywhere with that scope hanging over us. And if you're quick enough, they won't notice a thing."

Some chance felt better than none. But still...

"And don't worry about me. I'll make enough of a fuss that they'll stay back." He gave a pump of his newly-acquired shotgun as he finished, then scrambled for the unspent shell he almost wasted. Brushing the dirt off, he caught a smirk breaking through the Viper's concern.

Natasatch turned around, plotting the best course to reach the vine ladder undetected. She glanced back before she dove into the water. "Malcolm, if you get killed... I'll be very upset with you."

" _I'll_ be very upset with me!" He agreed.

The water felt as good as ever as she dove down, and but she didn't let the sensation distract from her goal. The poison smokescreen would be gone any moment, and Malcolm had the only radio between the two, so she wouldn't know his status until she was done. Keeping low, sliding along her belly, she emerged behind a partially submerged rock and darted to the mat of vines Malcolm pointed out.

She heard a shot ring out, and then more, and when she reached the cliff top she surveyed the battlefield below. Malcolm once again fired wildly to keep the aggressors at bay, and his distraction seemed to be working. Not a single bullet whizzed her way, which, conversely, meant more pressure on Natasatch to relieve her friend, fast. There was a silver lining to this gunfire sandwich, as the human expression went, as the continued gunfire meant the rebels' target was still alive.

Natasatch slid behind the short foliage, keeping low as she advanced. It was a short ways away to where she estimated the sharpshooter to be, and sure enough, she spotted a human female prone on the rocks, almost glued to her scope. All too easy to eliminate the target. Getting it done silently would be- Wait. She promised Malcolm she wouldn't kill them.

Natasatch paused her silent advance. The Viper winced, considering the new complication. Fortunately, it seemed an easy addition; bind and release just before the captive died, instead of just after. Keeping the sniper from calling for help was another matter. She could use her hand to cover the sniper's mouth, at risk of being bitten, or perhaps shove in a gag if she had one. Natasatch remembered she did have a rag, the thin fabric circling her chest. It was the humans that cared about its presence, not her. Perfect.

The sniper finally noticed the dirt and twigs rustling far too late, and the moment she started to yelp Natasatch coiled around her, shoving her rolled-up clothing in the woman's mouth to gag her. Her plan worked flawlessly, and the sniper passed out after half a minute of inaudible struggling. Well, almost flawlessly. One of her human friends would be certain to complain about her improvised muffle later. Releasing the unconscious body, she pressed herself flat and peered over the edge of the cliff. The attackers were still firing on her friend, not looking in her direction at all. The sniper's radio sounded as one of the attackers asked if she could spot the alien, giving Natasatch a measure of amusement, and more importantly, an idea.

The Viper tilted her head, one red eye gazing through the scope of the commandeered sniper rifle. Only a few moments of observation gave her an incredibly detailed look of the battlefield. Malcolm had repositioned further back, and recently too, judging by the fewer bullet marks nearby. Blue Bandana continued to hang back, firing in a wide arc to keep up the suppression. Closest to her friend was the child, and she could see clearly both her long golden hair, and the amateurish way she fired her rifle from the hip. Mid-range was the gray shirted soldier with the eyepatch, and her crosshairs lingered on the man longer than the others..

In only a moment, Natasatch reviewed the timeline of the fight, and recounted their opposition's every misstep. They had advanced straight in the open, shot wildly and with little discipline, kept their entire focus on the one visible target, and the Viper finally noticed their reload speeds took longer than the most untrained XCOM rookie. All except one of them. Eyepatch moved with purpose, focus, from cover to cover and sent his bullets where he intended. She guessed that he was the only enemy who actually had combat training, and therefore was the biggest threat they faced. She expected Malcolm would probably be able to dispatch the girl and Blue Bandanna, but not with Eyepatch bearing down on him.

Natasatch trained the crosshair right behind Eyepatch's ear, squeezed the trigger, and hoped her friend would forgive her.

...And the only thing she'd have to apologize for was her poor marksmanship. As she fired, Natasatch remembered this was the first human weapon she'd fired, _ever_. There was no predictable warmup of the plasma coil mechanism or continuous beam of energy. Instead, the violent jolt of the large caliber round firing forced her to flinch, and the scope bumped painfully into her eye ridge from the recoil. It took a moment for her to process the whole event, and when she looked back down the scope, Eyepatch's head was remarkably intact, and he was raising his radio to his ear. Fortunately, his gaze was still forward.

"Watch it, Slip." His voice came over the comms, still smooth and deep, and only his heavy intonation hinted at annoyance. "Keep your sights on the traitor."

"Ah, sorry!" Natasatch said into the sniper's radio, doing her best to imitate the rebel's voice. It'd been hard to notice if the gagged woman had an accent or specific tone, but nothing in the remaining rebels' behavior showed any suspicion. Natasatch took a breath, lined up a second shot, and tightened her grip on the rifle. This time when she pulled the trigger, nothing happened, besides a tiny 'click.' She looked down at the gun, slightly confused. Perhaps the powercell was empty? The viper felt the underside of the gun, finding nothing to indicate a powercell or ammo source. There was a lever on one side, and she was certain she'd seen their squad sniper Schwarzschild do something after each shot...

Natasatch huffed, realizing she was wasting time. Every second mattered. She was plenty dangerous on her own. Red eyes peeked over the cliffside, confirming that no other eyes were upon her as she charted out the quickest path to the closest target, and then the alien slithered back into the grotto.

Even with his fire support's last shot almost killing his ally, Blue Bandana didn't sense anything amiss. He'd lifted almost his entire body over the low cover to suppress Malcolm's position, firing with abandon. Avoiding tunnel vision like that was among Natasatch's earliest lessons, and a failing she was happy to exploit. The partisan's rifle clicked empty, forcing a pause. He at least remembered to duck back down to reload, and the turning motion finally let him see the furious viper darting towards him. He only had time for a short gasp before Natasatch overtook him.

She laid prone against the low rocks, and she peered over the top to make sure Malcolm was still okay. Her friend held his own against the yellow-haired girl, who'd advanced so far that Malcolm was able to grapple with her over the shotgun. Natasatch gave a wicked grin as she noticed Eyepatch gritting his teeth, unwilling to fire and risk hurting his comrade. When Malcolm bested their ringleader, she'd be ready.

She didn't have to wait long. Malcolm eventually hooked his leg behind the young girl's, and his superior size and muscle guaranteed the outcome. Driving an elbow to her temple, he shoved the stunned girl back, where she promptly tripped and fell on her backside. Scampering back a step, Malcolm turned the shotgun around, pointed it at the girl, and looked the last fighter in his remaining eye.

The tension was palpable. Even with the older man's steely gaze and scars, Malcolm matched the intensity with his own. One of them desperately wanted to take the shot, the other one desperately wanted not to.

The girl screeched from her prone position, "What are you waiting for?! Shoot the bastard!"

"You don't want to do that," warned Malcolm, calm but forceful. "It's over. Now we talk this out."

"You're right. You take the gun off Ro, and I won't shoot you like the traitor to humanity you are. No more violence," Eyepatch returned.

Silva looked indignant. "Traitor? You're the one shooting at two XCOM sergeants."

"Oh, what? You expect me to buy the snake is with XCOM?" Eyepatch let the anger seep back in. "XCOM _kills_ aliens, they don't keep them as pets. You're some spy meeting your handler."

Malcolm took his left hand off the foregrip, raising his fingers as he spoke. "One," he began, "... you'd know we're XCOM if your buddies-" he pointed a finger at the child "- weren't lying to you. Two, a real traitor wouldn't be trying so hard to keep you alive, especially when you're trying to _murder_ us. Oh, and speaking of aliens, three."

At the cue, Eyepatch flinched as a whip-like tongue tore his rifle from his grasp. His remaining eye widened, and with incredible speed, he reached for his sidearm and fired off a shot or two before Natasatch tackled him into the dirt, quickly wrapping her coils around the man. The Viper chuckled a little, pleased at the distraction's success, even if she distantly registered that pistol's bullets struck her. The man struggled and spat, enough that Natasatch had to use her arms to fully restrain him, but it was no use. The two of them won.

'Ro' started yelling angrily again, with a little injection of despair in the volume. The small girl looked back at her ally and forced herself up on one knee. A pump of the shotgun got her attention. "Don't. Move." Silva ordered. "You're going to have a lot of explaining to do."

Her lip wavered, and Natasatch felt the girl's body heat up, overwhelmed and distraught. She even noticed a wetness gleaming off her eyes. Suddenly, her body dropped, and the Viper knew Ro would attempt something very stupid.

Screeching again and pulling a knife from her boot, she charged towards Malcolm. A foolish move, since Silva already had his shotgun leveled at her. Youth or not, Silva would take the shot. She waited for the loud boom of the firearm to cut the girl down.

The sound didn't come, and the screaming girl got closer and closer to her friend. What was he doing?

More frustrated than angered, she yelled, "Malcolm! Shoot!"

When 'Ro' could finally strike, Silva finally moved... and threw the shotgun back. He raised his left arm to shield himself just as her knife fell. Natasatch hissed as she saw the blade cutting across his flesh, leaving dripping red lines as she swung and swung. She hissed louder when she felt a crushing and piercing pain on her hand, as Eyepatch wiggled enough to bring her palm into bite range. She couldn't drop him, not now, even if her friend was in danger, or else she'd just exchange one problem for another.

Malcolm held firm, but distressingly, refused to alter his approach. The young man avoided what he could and gritted his teeth through what he couldn't, but the crazed strikes made predicting her moves a losing fight. Eventually, Ro slipped up, reaching too far to slice down his breast, and Malcolm wrapped his arm around hers and immobilized her.

Perhaps he could handle himself from there, but Natasatch couldn't bear inaction anymore. She pulsed her coils hard once, hopefully to finally incapacitate the eyepatch soldier, and released him. At the same time, Malcolm sent his free hand into the girl's stomach _hard_ , enough that Natasatch saw the heat and blood drain from her face. Ro doubled over, dropping the knife, and when she looked up, she saw a furious alien serpent hissing right in her face. Ro screamed, liquid terror turning her face cold, and she threw herself prone, covering her face and crying.

The Viper wanted to slash, spit, anything to further neutralize the girl, but a hand on her shoulder interrupted the fury. She spun around, and her human friend gave it another tug. "Nat... it's over," Malcolm said, between his panting breaths. She locked eyes with him, and her breathing started to slow as well. "We won," Malcolm added, hushed, audible only as the chaos died down.

Natasatch tilted her head, eyeing the side of her human friend opposite her. What she saw made her wince. Crimson dripped from a number of horizontal slashes on his left arm, most clustered on his wrist and forearm. She couldn't judge how deep or how serious Malcolm's wounds were, but the way every other breath was a sharp inhale told her plenty. "You're hurt, Mal."

Malcolm only gave her an apologetic smile. "How bad?" Natasatch asked.

"I'll live," He said. "And, uh... "

Malcolm broke eye contact, shot his eyes downward, and then looked to her again. She saw a flush of heat overtake his cheeks. She definitely called it.

"...where'd your top go?" He asked in a very tiny voice.

She was about to explain how sacrificing her bikini was a tactical necessity, but Natasatch saw movement in the corner of her vision, and whipped her head around. Eyepatch was on his feet again, eyeing the assault rifle Natasatch had torn from his grasp. She immediately dropped back into her combat stance, ready to intercept him, but Malcolm acted first. He waved his blood-soaked hand at the rebel, and said casually, "How about we give peace another shot, pal?"

The final rebel looked at him, then back at the rifle, and then back at Malcolm, and then finally to Natasatch. The Viper, meanwhile, never took her red eyes off him, and she hoped her gaze promised a terrible, terrible future should he make the wrong choice. Fortunately, he released the tension in his legs, lowered his hands, and stepped back. "Fine. You won this round, snake. And maybe, just maybe, it looks like you might not be bullshitting me after all."

"You are very impolite for a disarmed and outnumbered man." Natasatch commented, with the same sass exhibited by Malcolm. Eyepatch refused to respond, which suited her just fine. The Viper shot a look down, confirming that Ro hadn't moved from her spot, when she noticed at least a dozen camera flashes at the top of her visual range. Of course, they weren't cameras.

Natasatch and Malcolm sighed in tandem, and raised their hands above their heads as the rest of Safari outpost finally arrived.


End file.
